LOVE HURTS
by Chick Feed
Summary: Always happy to help Bobby out with a case, this one hits too close to home, leading to a deadly game of Hide and Go Seek that leaves Dean in a race for life; his own... Multi-chapter case fic. Will be updated regularly.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer : I don't own them, I just mess with them.

This one's for you sis, and _no_ , the title's just a title! :D Chick xxx  
 **LOVE HURTS  
** _Always happy to help Bobby out with a case, this one hits too close to home, leading  
_ _to a deadly game of Hide and Go Seek that leaves Dean in a race for life; his own...  
_ **Prologue  
** -oOo-

"Son? C'mon son, open your eyes...Hey lad...You can't die on me yet, you hear? Open those eyes for me...I wanna see your eyes lad...Here, look at me!... _There_ you go! That's better. Here, let me give you a hand to sit up ... I'm sorry kid, I know it hurts...You know, there was no need for all this catch as catch can son, but I get why you took off like you did, I do. It's my own dumb fault.. I shouldn't have gone about things the way I did, an' I'm sorry for that son, truly I am. Listen kid. I want us to start over, ok? Then you'll understand why I've gotta do this, an' you'll know you can still rely on yer ole' pal Bobby. I'm still watchin' out for you, like always. It's just that you're lookin' at things from the wrong shoreline right now...Haven't I only ever wanted what's best for you kid? Always will. An' this? I know it's gotta be hard to believe right now but, trust me son, I never wanted you sufferin' like this, it was supposed to be over for you way quicker...Tell you what I'm gonna do, I'm gonna get you lyin' nice an' comfy indoors, ok? I promise I'll do right by you. Just one more shot's all it'll take for me to put an' end to this hurtin'. I'll aim for your heart, how about that? I swear I won't miss. It'll be nice an' easy on you, an' then son? You'll be safe. _Always_. Ain't nothin' an' no one gonna be able to hurt you ever again kid...Sound good?"

-oOo-

 **C1  
** _Roughly 48 hours earlier.  
_ -oOo-

Sam kept his eyes stubbornly closed, it wasn't yet daylight and anyway the phone that was ringing wasn't his. A growl from the next bed indicated that the sound had finally cut through his older brother's beauty sleep and woken him, at least partially. He heard the sound of Dean's hand thumping around on the top of the bedside table a couple of times before landing on his cell, followed by the low mumble of him answering the call while trying to keep hold of his sleeping mode. Knowing that if it was anything important Dean would wake him, Sam contentedly let himself drift back to sleep. His happy state lasted less than five minutes.

-o-

Dean had to make his way through one solidly none aerodynamic pillow which landed like saggy dough over his younger brother's face garnering a quiet _Mmnff,_ followed by a snore. Next was the motel bible which spun through the air, pages flapping like wings in flight, before thudding into the area of Winchester junior's ribs, failing to induce wakefulness due to the protection offered by the sleeping Winchester's tangled bedclothes. And finally...One of Dean's own boots, which turned out to have a much better aptitude for flight than either of the previous two missiles. The boot crash landed in the target area with perfect precision. Sam's head jolted upwards, the dough-like pillow collapsing off his face. Both eyes snapped open, and he gasped in a huge lungful of air, holding it for a couple of seconds before hissing it out again through his gritted teeth. Sam let his head fall back onto his own pillow at the same moment as he backhanded Dean's attention grabber off his vulnerables and onto the floor while pulling himself together enough to be able to utter a breathy _Wha'!?"_

"F'rst show'r y'rs."

"S'not. S'y'rs."

Satisfied that he had clarified the situation for his brother Sam rolled over, his back to Dean, and settled again.

"Don' wan'... S'mmy? Said don' wan'. _You_ f'rst!"

"Y'r phone, y'r show'r. Pissov m'asleep"

Sam didn't catch enough to be able to decipher Dean's next mumble but, on hearing Dean's bedclothes being thrown back and the bed creaking as Dean reluctantly sat up, Sam guessed the English translation of Winchester senior's comment would turn out to be less than polite. He could live with that; he was the proud winner of extra sleep time to enjoy. Sam wasted no time in making use of his prize.

-o-

In Sam's dream, the ground beneath him bounced twice before subsiding, sending Sam rolling down into a deep sinkhole. The effect was to wake him with a sudden jolt that went through his whole body. He soon discovered that he _had_ rolled, into a dip in the mattress created by someone plonking themselves down on one edge as heavily as they could.

"Sammy? Wake up time princess. I fetched coffee. Mmmmm. Coffee _good._..Come on, get it while it's hot bro'...We got a job to do."

At last Sam moved, turning his head just enough to allow him to peer up at Dean using one eye.

"Where'sit at?"

"Sioux Falls. The call was Bobby to say he could do with a hand on a case if we were available. I said we'd be there by early evenin' latest, so rise and shine sunshine. Sleepy time's over...Go get ready an' let's hit the road."

Sam was halfway to the bathroom when he stopped, glancing back over his shoulder he saw Dean was already haphazardly packing clothes into his duffle.

"You never said what sorta case. What's Bobby involved in?"

Dean's head stayed bowed and he focused intently on balling two unmatched socks together.

"Didn't I? Sorry...Seems Bobby's got himself landed with a spate of possessions."

Sam stared at the top of his brother's head in silence for a moment, until it became quite clear, Dean wasn't about to add anything further

" _And_?...You're ok with this?"

Dean answered seriously.

"Don't really matter does it? Bobby's asked for our help, an' I'm not about to turn him down."

Sounding more upbeat, Dean threw Sam a too bright grin.

"Anyway, it's been a few years since that place, an' I'm cool with it. I gotta say though Sammy, these passin' years're showin' on _you_."

Sam played along, accepting Dean's diversion for now.

" _Thanks_! Didn't realise you'd notice, but you're absolutely right! I _do_ keep on gettin' better lookin' year on year, don't I?"

-o-

Standing in the shower. Sam turned in a slow 360, letting the hot water soak him all over. Dean had evaded directly answering Sam's question, leaving him to assume that, no, Dean really wasn't _completely_ ok about the job however, he wasn't about to walk away from Bobby asking for help. Sam had no doubt at all that when he was on the phone to Bobby, Dean's thoughts had instantly gone back to when their dad was alive and the asylum case; just as his own had on hearing what sounded like serial possession, or whatever the proper term was. Sam's well honed guilt synapses fired as one and he physically flinched at the memory of pointing a gun at his brother and, without qualms, repeatedly pulling the trigger. The gun, thanks purely to Dean and his foresightedness, was empty of bullets. Sam's physical form would happily have killed Dean while being under the will of the one who possessed him. Dean, to Sam's knowledge, had never been possessed. His brother had no idea of how powerless it made a person feel, or of how completely the thing doing the possessing could take over and control or influence the person. Since the asylum case, Sam had retained the suspicion that a tiny part of his brother would always wonder whether Sam _could've_ resisted if he'd seriously _wanted_ to? Sam had done all he could back then to try banishing that particle of doubt from Dean's mind, he really didn't want to pick at that spot again. Suddenly annoyed at himself for having allowed his thoughts to drift back and to dwell on such a painful memory, Sam gave his hair a half hearted wash before hurriedly finishing off the rest of his shower, uncertain whether the newly acquired sense of foreboding wrapping itself around him was real, or born of his own learned expectation that whatever kind of worst the worst was, it would nearly always happen.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx  
 _Thanks for hopping on board and taking another trip._


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you for reading, and a special_ BIG _thank you to those who have reviewed;  
_ _especially you sis :) Really lovely to read on a bad day - The best medicine.  
_ Chap. 2  
-oOo-

Sam intentionally waited until Dean and he were on a fairly busy stretch of highway and Dean's hands were occupied with the task of driving before he attempted to broach the topic of the asylum and possessions again.

"Dean? I know...

Dean jumped in, wise to Sam's ways and determinedly stopping his irritating, if well meaning, brother in mid-sentence.

"It'll be fine Sam! We both got our anti possession tats workin' for us this time bro'. History ain't gonna repeat itself. Now _please_ Sammy...Drop it...Let's leave that other stuff back there in the past, eh? It's done with. Alright?"

Sam stared straight ahead, considering Dean's plea and, finally, he gave a small nod of ascent.

"Alright. Like you said, it's done with. Nothin' but ancient history ... Bobby give you any details about this case he's called us into?"

Dean was, at the same time, both relieved and surprised. Relieved that Sam had listened, and surprised that Sam had listened! He happily began to relay the small amount of information Bobby had given him.

"Few, not much. He was really just checkin' we were free an' in a position to lend a hand. He _did_ say that the people who were possessed have all ended up killing the person it seems they loved the most or felt the... _Holy Zepplin_ Sam! What _now_? What's _that_ freakin' look all about?"

Sam was staring at Dean in horror. Dean actually knew _exactly_ where Sam's mind was at, but no way was he going to let his brother know that he'd had what were probably very similar thoughts. Instead, he smirked and slapped Sam on the thigh.

"Don't know about you baby brother but, honestly? I haven't got the faintest idea where the person _I_ love the most even _is_ these days!"

Ignoring Sam's raised eyebrows, Dean carried on dreamily.

"Jennifer Pywald. Remember her? She was only a reserve in the cheerleadin' squad, but oh boy! Was _she_ stacked!...Actually, I think that was _why_ she was only ever a reserve. Too top heavy see? Meant she couldn't do a few of the moves properly due to bein' over balanced, or off centre...Or was it because she was on a tilt?...It was somethin' like that anyway, not sure which but, _oh boy_!"

Sam gave up. Like Dean said, they both had their tattoos so, no reason to be concerned. He turned away and settled down further in his seat to watch the world go by.

-o-

"Oh, one more thing Bobby said...The possessee's? None of 'em knew they'd done anythin' wrong till they were arrested. An' three of 'em managed to commit suicide in custody."

Sam stared at Dean, taken aback by the implications of the former aspect of the additional information and saddened by the latter

"Ok, give me one thing at a time. First, you sure you heard right? Not one of them remembered _anything_?"

Dean glanced at Sam before turning back to the road ahead.

"Yes I heard right, that's what the man said"

"From or including the moment when they were actually possessed?"

"I dunno. I was still half asleep. I wasn't about to start askin' a whole load of questions, my verbal skills weren't goin' much beyond growl, mumble"

"No problem, it's just, well, _I_ remembered, so's other people we've dealt with who've been possessed. They've _all_ been able to remember what they were forced to do...So if these people _really_ have no memory, we could be dealing with something we've not come across before!"

With no response from Dean, Sam continued.

"The three that died in custody, where were they being held at the time?"

"Unfortunately, still in the cells at Sioux Falls."

Sam's eyes widened.

"Crap! That's not gonna go well for Jodie. One death in custody brings bad feelin's and bad publicity, never mind _three_! Let's hope nobody needs a scapegoat! Were they all hangin's?"

Dean shook his head, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

"No. O _ne_ of 'em was...But another died, _eventually_ , from the effects of repeatedly smashin' his head against the wall of his cell. Believe it or not, _that's_ not the worst. The third? Get _this._..She actually _chewed_ her way through her own wrists till she got to the main artery, then she bit through that an' bled out!"

Sam looked appalled.

" _That's...That's just...It's..."_

"I'm right there with you dude."

-o-

For a while, neither brother spoke, but Dean sensed Sam was working on something, doing some internalised research. He happily focused on the driving, sure Sam would let him know whether he had found something in that over performing brain that he carried around with him. Knowing that however, didn't stop Dean from being startled when Sam suddenly and loudly ruptured the silence.

" _Dammit_!"

"Crap, Sammy! My freakin' _heart,_ dude!"

Sam's face fell, and there was a long pregnant pause that felt like it had gone roughly six weeks over it's due date. Dean turned, and frowned at his younger brother's concerned expression.

" _Oh for!_...Sammy! It surprised me when you yelled that's all! The old ticker's workin' fine, so stop lookin' at me like that, _Freak_ , an' tell me what's got your panties knotted?"

Caught out by Dean, Sam flushed at his brother's words, and quickly shoved the image of how close to death Dean had looked after he accidentally electrocuted himself into a major heart attack that left him terminally ill post resuscitation, back inside it's internal metaphorical box. Sam's successful search for a way to stop Dean dieing from the after effects had turned out to be a mixed blessing, having come at a high price. Despite Sam's guilt synapses once again pulsating into life, he knew he would still do the same if put back into the situation.

"Right, sorry, I just..."

" _Sam_!"

" _Okay_! These possessions, seems they're not like the one's we come across, not the normal daemonic type anyway...?...

Dean's short burst of laughter cut through Sam's talking. Seeing the totally baffled frown on his younger brother's face, Dean began laughing again. His amusement was increased yet further when Sam's hand reached to pull down the passenger side mirror and he stared in it, checking to see if there was something on his face causing Dean's attack. He saw nothing out of place. Happy as Sam was to hear his brother's heart-warming laughter, Sam was still puzzled.

" _What_? What've I missed?"

Eyes on the road and a grin on his face, Dean shook his head.

"It's not you Sammy, it's _us_ , our life! Wanna know how you know you're a long time Hunter?...When you put words like _normal_ and _daemonic_ together in the same sentence an' don't even notice."

Sam had to concede, Dean had a point.

"So, what makes you think they're not the " _normal daemon"_ kinda possession?"

"Well, the targets havin' no memory of killing the people they loved. I know from personal experience that daemon possession leaves you aware of everything, including what you're body is doing, but you can't stop it. If these _were_ run of the mill daemon possessions, those people would remember _everything._

"Ok, so we might not be lookin' for a ' _normal_ ' daemon. Know what? I need food. We'll find a place for breakfast and give Bobby a ring. Check if the vics did know they'd been ridden. If not, at least it narrows down the possible perp species by one."

-o-

The diner they stopped at was one that Sam recalled having used on a previous occasion, on the basis of which Dean tried to charm a frequent customer's discount out of their glum looking waitress. She both refused and remained looking glum, leaving the elder Winchester anxiously wondering, was he loosing his touch? The younger Winchester happily and supportively affirmed that he most certainly _was_. The brothers left the diner knowing that each of those who had been under this odd kind of presumed possession, had all claimed no recollection of anything other the last thing they were doing when their normal lives came to an unexpected end; before resuming a surreal version of their lives in which they found themselves being charged with the murder of their loved ones.

-oOo-  
 _Snacks and drinks can be purchased from the buffet carriage situated towards the back of the train..._


	3. Chapter 3

_Some story train passengers claimed the food car ran out of goodies  
_ _Come on, own up, who ate all the pies? Re-stocked and ready to go...  
_ Chap. 3

-oOo-

Sam was at the wheel when the Impala pulled into Singer Salvage and parked up outside the house. As ever, Bobby appeared at his front door to greet his "boys". Although he was always happy to see them, particularly when neither of them needed his medical skills, he rarely let his expression reflect how much pleasure their arrival gave him and his tone of voice always made it seem like he'd last seen them less than five minutes before..

"'Bout time! Hurry up an' get your butts indoors, supper's about to turn into somethin' charred an' burnt to the bottom of the pan. That ole girl overdue a service? She must'a _crawled_ here."

Climbing out the passenger side, Dean stretched his back while grinning over the Impala's roof at Bobby.

"Good to see you're in high spirits as usual, old man. An' you _know_ my baby's in prime condition...Better than _you_ are anyways. How about you start dealin' out the goodies while we unload? I'm _starvin_ '! Even _your_ cookin' sounds good!"

"Call me _old man_ an' make comments like that about my culinary skills again, an' you'll be watchin' while me an' Sam here clear the whole dessert between the two of us!"

Dean's eyes opened wide in mock horror as Bobby stepped down off the porch to give the pair a hand with their baggage.

"Oh boy! Bobby? Hav'ta tell you, you're gettin' downright mean in your old age."

Bobby promptly turned his attention to the younger Winchester.

"Sam my boy! How you doin' son? You feelin' up to goin' halves on a home cooked strawberry an' apple pie with an old man?"

Sam threw an arm casually around Bobby's shoulders, looking back at Dean all the while he was answering Bobby.

"You can count me in. And I gotta say Bobby, you're looking fit and well, just like a man in his prime _should_!"

Mirroring Sam by draping his arm up and over the younger man's shoulder, Bobby began steering Sam towards the house.

"Come indoors lad an' take the weight off. Dean'll be fine bringin your stuff in. Coffee's fresh made. You wanna wait for Big Mouth? Or shall you an' me make a start on dinner while he unloads?"

Dean's expression turned to stunned disbelief as Bobby and Sam turned their backs to him, and casually made their way indoors.

"Um...Guys?"

-o-

Towing both duffels, a kit bag weighing heavy with a selection of weapons, both their jackets and with the strap of the laptop satchel slung around his neck half strangling him, Dean glared at his brother sat at Bobby's kitchen table, a mug of coffee already grasped between Sam's two hands. He paused outside the kitchen before heading for the stairs up to their shared room.

"You _do_ know this one's gonna come back an' bite you in the butt, little brother?"

Sam grinned, calling out after Dean's disappearing back.

"Half a strawberry an' apple pie? It's worth it!"

Dean didn't reply. He _did_ , however, stay in their shared room long enough to "remake" Sam's bed for him before returning downstairs to find Bobby and Sam had, in fact, waited for the elder Winchester to join them before eating.

-o-

The brothers ate with gusto, enjoying their first home cooked meal in what felt to both of them like way too long a time, and both formed an appreciative audience for Bobby's well honed cooking skills. Sitting back at the end of the meal having cleared both their main course and the dessert, Bobby gazed at the crockery piled up on the sink side.

"Way you two've cleared your plates, washin' up's not gonna take the pair of you long. Here's a suggestion...You might consider eatin' occasionally _between_ visits?"

Bobby grabbed three beers, nodding his head in the direction of his lounge, come study, come library.

"Gentlemen...Shall we?"

-o-

Entering the room, both the brothers' attention was instantly drawn to a neatly white- tac'd collection of photographs, newspaper clippings, hand written notes and a map covering over half of one wall. Lengths of different coloured yarns ran seemingly haphazardly from points on the map to specific photos or sets of notes and a clipping or two. Dean cast a practiced eye quickly over the case related montage Bobby had created, his focus then returning to the most important element, the victims. In this case they were twofold, the individual who had been potentially possessed, and the person they would each have been helpless to stop their invaded body from killing. Sam sat himself down next to Bobby who was already at his book strewn desk opening up his laptop.

"Have you found anything linking any of the ones who you think were possessed?"

Bobby nodded.

"Sure I have...They all got charged with murderin' somebody they cared about, an' none of 'em could remember doin' it."

Neither brother rose to Bobby's flippant tone, recognising it as simply being a sign of the older Hunter's frustration with the case. Bobby looked at the brothers sheepishly.

"Sorry."

Dean shrugged, sitting himself down at the opposite side of the desk and shuffling his chair so he could still see the items stuck to the wall.

"Forget it...Just proves you _are_ an old grouch. So...No common denominator to tell us why _these_ people. Nobody remembered being possessed or killin' anybody, so maybe this' somethin' new to all of us. Over to you, Obi-Wan, bring us up to speed. Who were the first vics?"

Opening a desk drawer, Bobby lifted out a manila folder. Pulling out two photographs, he slid one to Sam and the other to Dean.

-o-

Sam gazed at the late middle-aged couple standing in a garden with their arms around each other, both smiling easily at the camera.

"Molly and Jo Townsend, been married 39 years. Both retired. Two kids, three grandkids. Lived on the outskirts of town up by the lake in the same house Jo's parents bought 'em as a gift when they wed. They ran a weekly old time dance class in town, had a clutch of regula's went along most weeks. All described the pair as close as twins, real soul mates...Till Jo upped an' blew Molly's brains out."

Bobby nodded over to the photo in Dean's hand.

"That's how she was found, on her kitchen floor. Jo himself rung it in, had no idea how she come to be lyin' there dead with her brains spread all over the kitchen window. Told the police he must'a blanked out, when he came round, Molly was dead an' he had his 12 gauge in his hand. Jo managed to hang himself in his cell. That dance class gave me the only link I've been able to come up with between these an' the next pair of vics,"

Bobby slid another pair of photographs across the desk.

"Margaret Mulland and her long time partner Sarah Hampton. Three days after they'd given their statement to the cops about how close Jo an' Molly were, Sarah buried a wood choppin' axe in Margaret's back. Went on to do it five times in all. Her an' Margaret were two of Molly an' Jo's regula's. There's _gotta_ be some connection between them an' the third pair, but damned if I can trace it. Monica Hewitt. The kid she's huggin' was her little girl, Lucie Hewitt, age 7. Found tucked up in bed, suffocated. Alarm was raised when Monica ran out the house an' carried on racin' down the middle of the road screamin', till eventually she collapsed. Far as she was concerned, she found her already dead when she went in to wake her. Monica an' Lucie had stayed home just the two of 'em all evenin'. There was no evidence of anyone havin' broken into the house. Monica was a widow, so no violent ex hangin' around..."

Dean glanced up from the picture of a laughing mum and daughter.

"Was?...Ahh _crap_ Bobby! Mum was one of the suicides?"

His expression grim, Bobby nodded in affirmation. Dean shook his head sadly as he stared at the picture again.

"So, she's the woman who...?"

Bobby stood up.

"Yeah, that's her, poor sweetheart. The way she died? That had even the longest serving, most cynical guys on Jodie's team in tears...I'm for a shot of somethin' a might harder than beer. Either of you two wanna join me?"

-o-

Bobby outlined the case of Jacob and Jason Bulmer next, twin brothers in their early twenties, and this time there were witnesses present when Jacob walked into the bar where the brother's had arranged to meet and, without a word, produced a dagger with which he proceeded to calmly stab Jason repeatedly. Those closest to the incident all described Jacob as having a distant stare on his face, as though he was completely unaware of what he was doing. Three other customers took Jacob down, but by then it was too late for Jason. Bobby went on to say that it was Jacob who then killed himself by cracking his head over and over against the wall of his cell. Listening, Sam's hand unconsciously strayed over the area where his anti-possession tattoo was situated, hidden beneath his shirt. Thomas Parker, 33, slit his 60 year old father's throat and, in the most recent incident brought to Bobby's attention, Barry Farrell, 26, looked to have strangled the young woman who was his childhood sweetheart and who he had been due to marry; 24year old Julia Cole. A young woman that Bobby himself had been acquainted with for some years..

-o-

By now, Sam was standing in front of the case montage. Map pins identified each person's address, where each killing took place and, if an individual worked, whereabouts. He was having no joy in his efforts to spot signs of a specific symbol or shape hidden within the placing of the multi coloured markers. He hadn't really expected to, knowing that Bobby would already have tried that in his search for some clue as to what or who might be behind the tragedies. Frowning, he turned to look back over his shoulder at Bobby and his brother.

"What if there _is_ no link? Or maybe the link is something tenuous, like they've all used the same superstore at some point this year?"

Bobby's eyes met Dean's.

"You _did_ explain to your kid brother this idea 'bout the pair of you comin' along an' _helpin'?_ Right? Not comin' here to set about makin' things even _more_ complicated by sayin' what _I've_ been tryin' my damndest _not_ to think about?"

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	4. Chapter 4

Chap. 4  
-oOo-

Sam stepped back and gazed at the short, hand written list of potential suspects he had added onto Bobby's wall, Daemon, Spirit, Shape-shifter. All of which Bobby had already considered. Wandering over to the younger Hunter, Bobby took the pen from Sam and added to the list. Still seated, Dean leaned to one side in his chair to watch what Bobby was writing.

" _Wendigo_? How d'you figure that one?"

Bobby handed the pen back to Sam.

"Early accounts talk of the Wendigo bein' able to posses folks' souls. Never come across it myself, don't mean it ain't right though. Maybe it's somethin' only _some_ of 'em can still do?"

Dean nodded.

"Alright then, Wendigo's get to stay. Sammy? Anything else comin' to mind?"

"Not without some research."

Bobby grinned and clapped Sam on the back.

"Good of you to volunteer lad. Dean? Barry Farrell's not been handed over to the state police yet, Sheriff Mills' still got him in custody till tomorrow afternoon. He'd wonder how come a salvage yard owner was allowed to talk to him, but he don't know you, son."

"Fine. Will Jodie be ok with me interviewing her suspect?"

"Right now, she'd be glad of any help. I call her an' tell her you'll be over in the mornin'. What name shall I tell her you're gonna be usin'?"

-o-

Dean rummaged in his jacket pocket, pulling out a fake FBI badge and glancing at it.

"Agent Sumners. Nice an' simple. What about you? What're you planning on gettin' up to?"

"I'm thinkin' I oughta go pay my respects to young Julia's folks. They've called by here quite a few times over the years, most often lookin' for spare parts. In fact, I helped fix 'em up when they were wantin' to buy the lass her first car, always say hello if I see them in town. It's not gonna seem unduly odd if I turn up to offer 'em my condolences and see if they need anythin'. I don't know Barry's folk so well, but I might still go over there, you know, to drop a card in, pick up some groceries for them. Be the good neighbour, especially what with young Barry being due to be shipped out over the next day or so. For tonight...

Bobby moved back to the desk, reaching into the drawer again and producing a full looking brown A4 envelope.

Jodie made copies of the pictures taken of the crime scenes, I've cast an eye over them already, but won't hurt for you two to go through 'em, see if anythin' strikes you as lookin' out the ordinary."

Dean accepted the envelope.

"You mean besides the chalk marks?"

-o-

Dean made a point of not going to bed before Sam, his gaze following his brother out of the study when he announced he was hitting the sack, a small smile playing on Dean's lips. Bobby waited till he heard Sam reach the top of the stairs before speaking in a low voice.

"Well? What's young Sam gonna find?"

Dean's smile evaporated and he stared at Bobby, a picture of wide-eyed innocence.

"S'cuse me? I'm not with you?"

Bobby rolled his eyes. The house never seemed so alive as it did whenever his boys came home.

" _Dean_! You _jerk_!"

At the sound of Sam's frustrated cry, Dean burst into laughter, taking breath long enough to let Bobby in on what he'd done with Sam's bedding.

-o-

 _A.N._ ** _*_** _"_ _Apple pie bed." -_ _The bed looks normal until the victim tries to get in it, and can't get their legs and feet further than half way down the bed. Under the top cover, all other sheets etc are folded back on themselves half way down the bed and tucked in tight to create a pocket (like an envelope made out of the sheets).  
_  
-o-

Breakfast the following morning was a business like affair, with Sam eating his toast while already ensconced in the study, eyes glued to his lap top, fingers dancing over the keyboard entering various combinations of key words into the search engine, then skim reading through the pages of hits.

Sam? Your brother and me are headin' out now. I'll keep my phone on in case you need me. Dean's doin' the same...Ok?... _Right_ , lets do this boys. See if any of us can hit paydirt an' come up with _somethin_ ' useful before there's another incident.

-o-

In the quiet of Bobby's house, Sam was happily settled with a full mug of coffee and a note pad as he began following up on some of the more likely looking hits. He had never felt odd about being in Bobby's home when Bobby wasn't around. He and his older brother were nearly as familiar with the inside of the place as Bobby was with each brick that had been used to build it. The sound of a tap starting to drip, then, immediately cut into Sam's concentration. Sam carried on, curiosity having led him to start his research with the all too familiar Wendigo, and Bobby's news that the creature was once believed to have the ability to possess people. All the while the rhythmic drip, drip, drip of the tap continued. Until, eventually, it began to eat it's way through Sam's focus, distracting and irritating him. Leaving the lap top running, Sam stood and wandered towards the kitchen.

-o-

At the same time as Sam entered the kitchen, the sound of the dripping water stopped. Sam hesitated in the doorway, waiting to see if it was going to start up again. When, after a couple of minutes, there was no further sound, Sam figured it had most likely been whatever water was left inside the tap clearing itself out. He strolled back into the lounge-come-study, keen to read the brief information he had found in relation to Wendigo possession. It wasn't much, just a tiny mention of the daemon spirit of a Wendigo being able to enter into human dreams and, from there, possess the unfortunate person, turning the victim into a bloodthirsty savage harbouring the overwhelming desire for cannibalism. Sam re-read the piece, as the sound of a tap steadily dripping again began to drill down into his brain. Eventually, he once more hit the point of no-longer being able to tune the sound out.

-o-

Head held in his hands, Sam sighed. This time he strode straight into the kitchen, freezing half way across the room, listening. Nothing. Not a sound. Everything was quiet yet again. Sam glared at the sink taps, silently challenging either of them to let go of one more drop, promising them they wouldn't enjoy his plumbing skills. Satisfied, he returned to his task. Thirty minutes later, he added another name to the list of suspects... _Rakshasa_. Stepping back, Sam glared at the latest name in distaste, unable to stop the horrifying memory of the moment when he realised he was being hemmed in by two clowns, the even more evil than usual sort who ate kids' parents.

"It sooo better _not_ be one of you! Though, I guess the upside is, at least we already know how to kill you."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	5. Chapter 5

Chap. 5  
-oOo-

Dressed in a dark suit and plain navy blue tie, Dean confidently approached the officer sat behind the _Enquiries and Bookings_ desk, ID already in his hand.

"Mornin' Officer...?"

"Officer Lamb, Sir. What can I do for you?"

Dean held up his ID.

"FBI. Agent Summners. I believe the Sheriff is expecting me?"

Officer Lamb stood a little straighter.

"Ah. You've come to interview our boy. Take a seat, I'll let the Sheriff know you're here Agent."

-o-

Sheriff Jodie Mills waited until she had closed her office door before giving Dean a quick hug.

"It's good to see you Dean. How's Sam?"

"Same as ever, way too tall; how about you?"

Jodie ran her fingers through her short dark hair.

"Been better. We really need a break in these cases. We just don't get a run of murders like this, not in Sioux Falls. There's _gotta_ be a link of some kind and we need to figure out what it is, or each one's gonna be treat as a separate case by the state, and innocent folk're gonna be tried for murder."

Dean looked at Jodie with surprise.

"You think they're all innocent?"

"I know these people Dean. They're _my_ people. And they're not killers...C'mon. Let me introduce you to Barry. I've told him someone from the Bureau is comin' to talk to him...I've told him he can trust you, that you're looking for a way to prove he wasn't responsible...I hope that's ok?"

-o-

Looking at the top of Barry Farrell's head, Dean waited for Jodie to leave the room on the pretence of getting Dean a coffee. Barry had been already sat waiting in one of the interview rooms for Dean's arrival, nervously twiddling with his now empty mug of coffee. A slender young man of 26, the stress and grief had clearly taken it's toll, making him look ten years older. Dark circles ringed his blue eyes, bloodshot and heavy from tears and a lack of sleep. The clothes he wore were crumpled and ill fitting. Dean figured the man had probably lost weight through his ordeal. His hair hadn't seen a comb for a while, and his chin was covered in dark, untidy stubble. Both knees were almost permanently bouncing in nervous tension and his brows were drawn together in fear and worry. Every now and then, he would shake his head as if in response to some inner voice. He projected a woeful air of heartbreak and defeat, all wrapped up in a thick layer of disbelief. When the interview room door first opened and Jodie had led Dean in, Barry had risen to his feet so quickly that his chair had tipped over, and he had jumped when the clatter of it hitting the floor served to startle him half to death. Waiting until Jodie righted Barry's chair and sat the distressed man back down, Dean kept his voice quiet when he spoke. Not wishing to alarm the man any further.

"Hi Barry. I'm Agent Sumners, but you can call me Dean. I'm here to help, Barry, if I can. I deal with...Well...Things that seem slightly off the normal scale. That's why Jodie called me here. You feelin' up to talkin' to me? Answerin' a few questions? Strictly off the record?"

Barry's voice was little more than a tremulous whisper.

"I...I guess."

Lifting his head, the man looked tearfully at Dean.

"I loved her... _Julia_...I loved her...I couldn't...kill her... _Couldn't've_...Please, help me...Her parents...Oh God...They must hate me... _Hate me_!"

The man lowered his head once more as he began to sob stutteringly. Dean held back his sigh, this could take a while. Dean decided to get right to the point.

-o-

"Barry? Listen to me. I don't think you had a clue what your physical body was doin' when...When Julia died. I think you were bein' controlled by somebody else, sorta like if you'd been hypnotised...Or _possessed_ ; an' _that's_ why you can't remember anythin'. You hearin' me Barry?"

Keeping his head bowed, Barry nodded.

"I hear you."

He slowly raised his head again but pointedly kept his gaze away from Dean's face.

"So are you sayin' that's what I'm supposed to tell a jury? I was possessed? 'Cos if that _is_ what you're advisin'? No offence, but I'd say you're insane!...Or is that your idea? That I put in an insanity plea?"

"Barry? Look me in the eyes...I'm sayin' I think you _were_ possessed; and that it's whatever twisted thing possessed you that _really_ killed Julia. I swear this kinda shit happens. I'm what's called a Hunter and stuff like this, the supernatural? That's what me and others like me hunt...I hunt this type of shit down, an' I kill it. That's the truth. Check with Sheriff Mills if you want; she'll vouch for me."

Barry stared at Dean, seeing nothing in the Hunter's eyes to suggest he was lieing.

"Man, are you for _real_? You _actually_ believe I was possessed? Why? Why would something like, what? A ghost? Why would it choose me? I'm nobody. I've never messed with a ouji board or any of that crap; neither had Julia... _Why_ would somethin' want to make me kill her? Why _her_? You tell me that, Mr Hunter person... _Why my Julia_?"

Squeezing his eyes closed to stem the flow of tears that were already running down his face, Barry started to rock back and forth in his chair and, at the same time, began a continuous and grief stricken moaning noise.

-o-

Moving to stand next to the shattered man, uncertain how best to comfort him, Dean, didn't notice the small bubbles of coffee coloured liquid begin gradually to appear, frothing out from somewhere beneath Barry's mug.

-o-

Spotting a fine streak of dried mud across the upper of his left boot, Bobby surreptitiously rubbed the top of the offending boot up an down the be-jeaned calf of his right leg, while at the same time tugging his baseball cap straight. Satisfied by his efforts, Bobby gazed up the front drive which led to Mr and Mrs Cole's reasonably sized and well maintained house. At every visible window the drapes were almost pulled too. Leaning up against the low stone wall separating the front lawn from the sidewalk were a dozen or so bunches of flowers left there by neighbours, each with a card containing a hand written message of sympathy and shared loss. Sat amongst those was a scattering of soft toys, each with a label and a comment dedicated to Julia from her friends and work colleagues. Bobby was both touched and confused; what was the point of the little memorial? Already three or four of the bunches of flowers were looking tired and were just beginning to wilt slightly. Someone would have the job of removing the flowers once they died and would have to collect together all the cards and messages before handing them over to Julia's family. Bobby frowned, not certain he supported the idea of marking out this house to anyone passing by as being one of grief and sorrow. Bobby had a last look before walking up the driveway and coming to a standstill at the front door, one finger hesitatingly pressed lightly on the doorbell. The top half of the entrance door had been fitted with a heavy pane of decorative frosted glass. Squinting to try to see through it, Bobby only just made out a blurred red shape on the inner side of the glass; it seemed to be moving slowly closer to the door.

-o-

Standing by the interview room door waiting for it to be unlocked so he could leave, Dean looked back at the hunched figure of Barry. As he spoke to the man, Dean heard the sound of a key being turned.

"You hang in there Barry..."

Dean bit back a groan.

"What I mean is, don't go doin' anythin' dumb ok? I _swear_ I'm gonna do my best to get you, and the others, released. If any information comes to mind, anythin' at all, you get word to me through Jo...Sheriff Mills. I'll ask her to make certain the state officers also know they're to pass any messages from you straight back to her."

The door opened and Dean stepped out of the room, turning to wait for the officer to close the door again. Through the narrowing gap, he saw Barry lift his head and gaze unblinking in his direction, he also noticed a small amount of coffee pooled around the base of Barry's mug and slowly beginning to spread further over the table. Without being certain why, Dean shot a hand out, stopping the officer from closing the door fully. Through the narrow gap, Dean saw Barry give him a small, sly, smile.

"Sure _Mr Hunter_... I'll hang in here... _You betcha_!"

-o-

Dean's hand moved to grip the officer's arm, holding it firmly in place.

"Let me back in there, _now_!"

"Yessir, no prob..."

Dean let go, and the officer pulled on the interview room door to open it wider and admit Dean back inside the room. His mouth formed an " _Oh_ " of surprise when the door was jerked out of his hand by some unseen force and slammed itself shut.

"Shit! _Move_! **_Out my way_**!"

Leaving the key in the lock, the officer obediently moved quickly back, leaving room for Dean to step up to the front of the door. The key refused to turn in the lock at all, neither one way or the other. Gritting his teeth, Dean was in danger of putting so much pressure onto the key while trying to force it to turn, that he was close to simply snapping it.

"Go! Get the Sheriff down here."

The officer was all too happy to oblige. Unable to comprehend why the key suddenly wouldn't work and how the door to the interview room had managed to close, he raced off, leaving Dean to battle the unmoving door alone. The instant the officer was out of view, the door suddenly released and flung itself wide open, sending Dean skittering backwards. Swiftly recovering his balance, Dean raced into the room and straight over to where Barry was hung, his torso bare, his shirt twisted and coiled tightly around his neck, while the remainder was somehow tied and tangled around the catch of the rooms only window, a long and very narrow one set high up into a the only external wall. With no time to spare, Dean wrapped both his arms around Barry's hips and lifted, trying to ease the pressure around Barry's neck from the makeshift noose.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
-oOo-

The Cole's front door opened, an elderly lady dressed in a red blouse and black trousers, and standing no more than four foot six, stared up at Bobby, glancing disapprovingly at his baseball cap.

"Hello? What do you want? If it's directions you're after, go ask somewhere else. This ain't no truck stop!... _Well_?"

Doing his best not to grin, Bobby removed his cap.

"The name's Singer ma'am; Bobby Singer. I've known the family, and young Julia, a while. I came to give my condolences ma'am, and see if there's anythin' they need, whether they need any groceries fetching, or someone to run folk around anywhere? Anything I can do at all to take some of the load off 'em, ma'am."

The woman's sharp brown eyes considered him briefly.

"Well. Leastways you're offerin' practical help. You'd best come on in Bobby Singer. Mind you wipe them boots. Name's Betsy, _Miss_ Betsy Myers. No need to keep on callin' me ma'am."

Bobby carefully wiped his feet on the door mat before stepping into the entrance hall.

"Mighty pleased to meet you Miss Myers. Are you one of the family?"

Betsy shrugged.

"Might as well be. I delivered Mrs Cole, an' I delivered Julia, sweet babe that she was. _Damn_ that young man of hers for what he's done to little Julia an' to this family. If you want my opinion? He should hang for what he done here! That poor, sweet girl! An' him sayin' he loved her an' all! Last _I_ heard, folks don't go round shootin' folks they claims to love!"

"Aunt Betsy... _Please_!"

-o-

Mrs Cole appeared out of one of the rooms leading off from the hallway and gave Bobby a quick apologetic smile.

"I'm just sayin' it like it is Jean. I loved that little girl like she were my own, you know that."

Jean bent down and wrapped the smaller woman in a hug.

"I know you did sweetness, I know. Why don't you step out back and... _Get some air_?"

By the emphasis in Jean's tone, Bobby guessed that Miss Myers was a smoker. He and Julia's mother watched as Betsy headed off, dabbing at her eyes with a cotton handkerchief nearly as big as she was. Jean turned back to Bobby.

"I hope I'm not intruding Mrs Cole?"

"Please, it's Jean. To be honest Mr Singer, we've had people calling on us ever since...Since..."

"Well, Jean, I won't keep you. I just wanted to say how sorry I am for your loss. Julia was a lovely lass, there's gonna be a good number of folks miss her bein' around. I'm guessin' the news of what happened shocked a lotta people. Hope you don't mind me sayin', but it seemed like her and that fellah of hers genuinely cared about each other. I guess you never can tell...Do you need anythin'? I'd be available to run people around if it would help, or if there's any shoppin' you need pickin' up so you an' your family can concentrate on...Other things? All you have to do is say, an' I'd be happy to help."

Jean threaded an arm through Bobby's and gave it a squeeze.

"Mr Singer, you're the first person who's actually offered real help...

"Please, it's just Bobby."

"Well _Just Bobby_ , please, come and have coffee in the garden with me, it would be so helpful to talk to someone other than family members who are experiencing the same emotions as me...Um...If you've don't mind and you have the time?"

-o-

Jean heard her own words, knew they were true, but was surprised at having chosen Bobby Singer, of all people, to say them out loud to! This was the guy they trusted with car parts, not their hearts! Yet somehow, Bobby felt right.

Bobby smiled softly and patted the woman's hand.

"Of course I have."

It was the perfect opportunity for Bobby.

-o-

" _Holy crap_! How the Hell did this happen? Charley? Has anyone called the paramedics? Pete, help D...Agent Sumners support the guy's weight. _Somebody get_ _some ladders_. We need to cut that shirt off the window catch. _Move it_ people!"

Running into the interview room, Jodie had instantly took stock of the situation, and begun doling out instructions. Dean was grateful when the officer Jodie had called Pete hurried over and positioned himself opposite Dean, with Barry sandwiched between them. Pete grasped Barry around the tops of his legs and relieved some of the weight from Dean. All this activity happened without anyone knowing whether Barry was still alive, or already dead.

-o-

Sam needed to move, stretch his legs. Another name had been added to his list. _Kishanta._ Wandering into the kitchen, he filled the coffee pot with cold water, remembering to make certain the tap was turned off properly, and set the machine off making a fresh lot of coffee. While he waited, he looked at his phone, wondering whether to call either Dean or Bobby to see how they were getting on? His stomach made a low growling noise. Putting the phone back in his jeans pocket Sam, instead, diverted his attention onto Bobby's refrigerator and food cupboards.

-o-

Sitting out on Bobby's front porch, happily crunching on crisp breads topped with thick whorls of spreading cheese laced with home made chutney, Sam's mind occupied itself linking the information he had gathered on each of the names on his list with what he knew about the deaths, trying to compile his current suspects in order, starting with the least likely first, figuring that would eventually leave him with the _most_ likely supernatural suspect. Wendigo quickly hit the bottom of his list, there being no evidence that any of those who had been possessed had gone on to show any signs of cannibalistic urges. He considered the shape-shifter...Strictly speaking, shape-shifters didn't possess people, instead they turned themselves into a kind of clone of the original. Sam stopped in mid-chew and frowned, not liking the implications of the thought that had come nervously tip-toeing out onto his mind's stage. - _What if the vics weren't being possessed at all_? _What if something was exerting an_ _ **external**_ _control over them?_

-o-

Sam's heart sank at the prospect of how long the list of potential suspects could become if that _were_ the case and, worse, how many human suspects it would have to include; anything from a hypnotist to a Warlock and all points in between. Sam shook his head no. This was Bobby's case, he was _certain_ Bobby would have considered the possibility and, somehow, been able to discount it. Irritated at his own head for raising the idea of an external control factor, Sam mentally took it out on the shape-shifter and gave it an annoyed kick, sending it tumbling down to the bottom of his list alongside the discarded Wendigo. Feeling happier, Sam returned to enjoying his snack.

-o-

Jodie had to restrain herself from climbing the step ladders before they were fully erected, impatiently steering her Deputy out of the way as soon as the ladders looked stable enough. Climbing and shimmying up them. It struck her that there was no way Barry could have reached this high to tie his shirt around the window opener without he stood on something. A swift glance told her that the table and two chairs were still in their position at the centre of the room. Not daring to look at Barry for fear that she was too late, Jodie opened up a large penknife that had been passed to her and began hurriedly cutting and slicing through the twisted shirt material. She spoke tersely to Dean and Pete.

"Get ready...I'm almost there! One - more - cut - and he'll - be - _Free_!"

Barry slumped awkwardly sideways, overbalancing both Dean and Pete. A pair of willing hands caught Barry under both arms and together the three men guided their burden to the floor. Pete and the second officer straightened up, leaving Dean to check whether Barry was breathing or not as Jodie slid and jumped off the ladders, immediately moving to kneel at Dean's side. Someone called out.

"I can hear a siren, Paramedics are on their way Sheriff."

Dean turned, looking at Jodie hopelessly.

"It's too late."

-o-

Jodie thanked the coroner and nodded to the paramedics, indicating that they could now remove the mortal remains of 26 year old Barry Farrell and deliver his body to the local morgue.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	7. Chapter 7

_Extra posting as a_ Thank You _to_ **mb64** _who spotted my "deliberate" error when I  
_ _posted_ _chapter 6 - I posted a chap 6 from the other fic I have on the go right now!  
_ _A good reason not to try posting more than one fic at a time in future! :) Enjoy..._

Chap. 7  
-oOo-

Sat together on an old fashioned park bench style seat set in the shade of a pear tree, Jean stared up at the house.

"This is the only home Julia ever knew until her and Barry moved in together. She was born here. Betsy was the midwife and Julia was her final delivery before she retired, we asked her to be Julia's Godmother. She's taken that role very seriously all Julia's life. Julia loves... _Loved_ her, and the feeling was mutual."

Jean turned and studied Bobby's face.

"You lost your wife, didn't you?"

Surprised at the turn in the conversation, Bobby nodded.

"Karen...Yeah. I did."

The short period of silence which followed was broken by Jean.

"How did you cope Bobby? How should _I_ , you know, cope?"

Bobby bowed his head before answering.

"Well see, I _didn't_ cope Jean. After Karen...It wasn't a good period in my life. I started drinkin' heavy, got me a reputation. Some folks round about _still_ think I'm that same wasted drunk. It won't be like that for you Jean. You're not like I was. You've got family around you, friends, people who care an' wanna help. Use them, let them help you, don't turn 'em away... Barry an' Julia had plans to wed?"

It was Jean's turn to look away, her eyes wet with tears.

"Yes. They were so happy together. Barry...He loved her. And she loved him. That's what I don't understand Bobby. _Both_ families agreed, they were soul mates. They _belonged_ together. When they told me that Barry had...I couldn't believe it. ... What would you say if I told you I still don't? Despite the evidence. Bobby?...I _truly_ don't believe that Barry Farrell murdered my daughter."

-o-

Bobby's answer wasn't the one she was expecting.

"You're right Jean. He didn't...I'm absolutely _certain_ of it. ... In all honesty? You'll likely think I've had a couple of bottles for breakfast, but I don't actually think it's any... _human_...responsible for killing your daughter."

The second period of silence seemed to stretch on into an eternity as Bobby waited for Jean to decide how she was going to respond. He figured the fact that she _hadn't_ immediately slapped his face already put him ahead! At last Jean stood up and looked back down at Bobby.

"Come with me Bobby. I want to show you something."

-o-

When Dean set out that morning, he hadn't expected to end up having to give a statement to Jodie about the events leading up to the unexpected death of a murder suspect with whom he was the last person to have had direct contact with. The only upside was that one of her own officers had confirmed seeing Barry alive when he unlocked the door and let Dean out of the interview room. He also substantiated the final words Barry said to Dean as the officer himself was closing the door and preparing to lock it again, with the living Barry Farrell still inside the room. Both men's statements from that point read as an impossibility, but they matched almost word for word. Jodie herself was amongst those who would confirm Barry was hanging from a height he couldn't have reached from floor level, with no signs of him having climbed up onto anything, even if he had got the time he needed to carry out his suicide, which of course he didn't have. Dean felt bad about leaving Jodie to try to explain the events, but he had to get out of there before the arrival of the state police, trusting Jodie's promise to keep him out of any further involvement and off the state police radar. A day or so later, when the state police finally _did_ try to contact Agent Dean Sumners regarding his statement, their search for the agent kept coming up blank. It was always destined to come to a dead end. Eventually, the only conclusion they could come to was that the ID was a fake and that, whoever Agent Sumners really was, it _was_ obviously him who killed Barry Farrell, the theory being that Agent Sumners _himself_ was the serial killer. The explanation made easier reading than the truth.

-o-

Sam had come across a reference to a little known race of vampires who, if a human drank some of their blood, were then able to project their own spirit into the human's body, rather like an unwelcome hitch-hiker. While sharing the human's body, their empty physical form would remain motionless, unresponsive, and extremely vulnerable to physical harm, unable as they were to defend themselves whilst their spirit inhabited and exerted control over the chosen human host. It was possession, of a sort. The reference material made no mention of whether the host could recall being used by the vampire afterwards. To be on the safe side, Sam added the vampires to the list on Bobby's wall. While he was doing that, his phone rang, the caller ID indicating it was Dean trying to contact him.

"Hey Dean. How you doin'?"

"I'm on my way back. Farrell's dead."

" _Wha_...How?"

"I'll explain when I get back. You heard anythin' from Bobby yet?"

"No. No word. You want me to ring him? See if he's on his way yet?"

"Leave it till I get back. How's it goin' your end? You figured out what's doin' this?"

"Not quite. I've added to the list of possibles though."

"Right. Well, if it's any help, seems like the things a fast mover.!"

"Fast mover, gottit. Anythin' else?"

"It _might_ be invisible."

Sam stared at his list, focusing on _Spirit_. It moved to pole position in his head.

-o-

Curious, Bobby followed Mrs Cole back inside the house.

"Hang on a sec?"

Bobby waited while Jean stopped by an open door, the sound of solemn voices drifted out of the room. Bobby recognised the female's as being Betsy's. Jean popped her head into the room.

"Betsy? Carl honey? I'm just taking Mr Singer upstairs to show him Julia's room if you want me for anything."

On hearing where Jean was taking him, Bobby's stance instantly straightened. Each of his senses became more heightened, more alert, responding to the rush of adrenaline that accompanied the almost instinctive switch into full Hunter mode. Turning, Jean paused for the briefest of moments and Bobby saw a puzzled expression flit across her face as she looked at him. Then, moving past him, she headed for the stairs. A telephone began to ring.

"Carl? Could you answer that darling? If it's for me tell them I'm taking a shower or something. This way, Mr Singer."

-o-

Bobby followed on behind until Jean came to a halt outside the door to a bedroom. She smiled sadly at Bobby.

"This was always Julia's room, it looks out over the garden. I don't know if I'll ever be able to..."

Jean was interrupted by the sound of her husband calling her. Rolling her eyes, she pushed open the door to Julia's room.

"Please, have a look around, I'll be back shortly."

Her husband shouted again and Jean hurried back towards the stairs.

"I hear you. Who is it?"

-o-

It felt odd, and slightly uncomfortable, to be left standing alone in the doorway of a young woman's private refuge. In any other circumstances Bobby would wait politely until Julia's mother returned. Right now though Bobby appreciated the opportunity to cast his Hunters eye around the room, looking for anything that appeared unusual or out of place. The first thing that struck him was the wall with floor to ceiling shelving, most of which were neatly stacked with books. Julia clearly had a love of reading; hardly surprising then that her job had been in Sioux Falls' main library. Bobby smiled to see one shelf devoted to children's classics, Black Beauty, Grimm's Fairy Tales, Hans Christian Anderson. The majority appeared to be illustrated versions. Scanning along the shelf, picking out stories that he himself had read as a boy, Bobby suddenly frowned. Walking across to the shelf, he stared in confusion at the sight of water steadily dripping from it and landing on the rug below, where there was already a visible damp patch. Bobby raised one eyebrow when he spotted the title on the spine of the book from under which the water appeared to originate. It read, _The Water Babies_.

-o-

"That same thing happened the day Julia died...Now it's for Barry. Barry Farrell is dead Bobby. That phone call was his father letting us know. They haven't got any details yet, apparently the Sheriff's on her way to their place now. Ted...Mr Farrell...Is going to keep us updated."

Bobby's initial reaction to the news was an almost instinctive " _Balls_!" and the need to speak to Dean. He apologised to Mrs Cole for his cussing, and pushed away his worry about Dean, the greater need being to maintain his focus on what was in front of him. The possible key to the whole messed up case.

"Jean, I know that right now, like as not you want me to leave; an' I'm truly sorry to hear about Barry, I am. But...I think this here could be real important, it might even help me figure out this whole mess, maybe give me a shot at stoppin' whatever this is, before any more innocent folks die."

Jean considered Bobby, looking into his eyes as though she were trying to read his thoughts. Bobby waited, seemingly patiently.

"You've dealt with this kind of thing before, haven't you Bobby Singer. You already knew something crazy was going on. It's really why you came here today."

It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes ma'am. You're right. I've come across this kinda thing, and other strange stuff, more than once. They call folk like me Hunters. Fightin' supernatural things like this is what we do, tryin' to stop 'em from hurtin' people. I became a Hunter after Karen...Was killed"

Head tilted on one side, Bobby considered Jean Cole for a couple of seconds.

"You know, I have it in mind that _you_ would likely have made a fair Hunter Mrs Cole. You have good instincts."

Jean gazed back at the man in front of her, then gave a slight nod.

"I'll take your complement but, no offence, I'm rather glad I never had a reason to find out whether I would or not when I was younger. And while I truly hope you find the thing that killed my daughter and her fiancé? I'm thankful I am too... _Mature_ in my years to consider the possibility now Mr... _Bobby_. Here...Look."

Jean walked over and carelessly lifted the book down from the shelf and stood aside.

"You see?"

Moving forward, Bobby glanced into the gap on the shelf where the book had been. Turning away, he held out his hand. Jean passed the book to him and Bobby began to inspect it, while Jean quietly awaited his verdict.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	8. Chapter 8

Chap 8  
-oOo-

Sam came out of the house as Dean pulled up, looking relieved to see him. Getting out of the car Dean made a half hearted attempt at humour.

"Whassup? Missin' me?...Bobby back yet?"

"No, but he rang. I told him I'd heard from you and that you were heading back here. He says he might have found something, he'll get here as soon as."

Sam put a hand on his brother's shoulder, his concern clear in his eyes.

"Are you ok?"

Dean rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, trying to relieve the tension which had lodged there.

"Been better. Things _definitely_ got a little hot back there."

As he spoke, Dean waved a hand toward the Impala, directing Sam's attention to the space where the front number plate usually hung. Sam raised both eyebrows.

"State police are gonna be lookin' for an Agent Sumners to help them in their investigation into the death of a prisoner while in custody. Didn't have time to take the plates off properly, so yanked 'em off to avoid 'em bein' on camera."

Sam nodded his understanding, his concern now increasing.

"What about when you first got there? And roadside cameras?"

"Jodie's dealin' with anythin' caught on the car park cameras when I arrived. An' She's also gonna give the state guys a make believe number plate for the dark blue '71 Impala that Agent Sumners was drivin'. You know Sam, I _seriously_ owe that woman a special kinda night out... _Oh for_...There you go with the _looks_ again! I'm talkin' a _proper_ evenin'. The kind that ends with a kiss on the hand at the front door when I drop her off back home, alright? Sometimes you've got a downright dirty mind Sam Winchester!...Anyway, if I _was_ dumb enough to try anythin'? I'm pretty certain she'd shoot me!"

"Probably. And I _haven't_ got a dirty mind...I've got a _get down and get dirty_ older brother! Coffee or beer? Then you can fill me in on what the Hell happened down at the station."

-o-

"...An' then I drove back here like there was a fire blazin' under my pert little ass. Anythin' from all that drama seem to fit the profile for any of our _un_ usual suspects?"

There was no immediate answer as Sam sat pondering Dean's telling of the events at the Sheriff's HQ.

"Sammy? Hello? Have I been sat here wastin' my breath?"

Sam looked up, a smile curled on his lips, the shortening of his words signalling his pleasure and relief.

"What? No! No, waste at all. Fact is, that's real helpful! I think you've flattened somethin' that's been botherin' me. When Barry made that last comment, you said you knew somethin' was off?"

"Yeah. The way he said _You betcha,_ didn't fit either his speech pattern or the mood of the man. It sounded _off_ , too... _Cheery_."

"Cheery? Really?"

"Bite me."

Sam's smile flashed wider.

"When he spoke, did he move his lips? You know, formin' the words? Or was it more like he was a ventriloquist? The words comin' out, but his mouth not joinin' in?"

Dean's eyebrows scrunched together as he gave his brother a look that asked _Are we_ _related?_

-o-

"You do know you ask the _weirdest_ damn questions? _Yeah_ , his lips moved. I would'a _said_ if they didn't...Probably."

"Great! So we _are_ looking at possession!"

"Come again? I thought we already knew that? And what's so freakin' great about it?"

Sam shook his head.

"No. Not great like _Yey! People's bein' possessed_! I'd got to thinking earlier, what if it's _not_ possession? What if the vics are being _externally_ controlled? Our suspect list could've got to the size of a supernatural phone directory! But, if Barry's lips moved, it proves Bobby's theory, this thing _is_ working from the inside."

"So we're on the right track? Good. ... Um, Sammy? On the way back here, I was thinkin' about things an I sorta thought to myself what happens when a person somethin' is possessin' goes an' dies while the somethin' in possession is still in there, like still bein' all possessy?"

"You _know_ what happens. Everything we've seen or read tells us that, unless things get smoky, if the thing wants to avoid blowin' around in the breeze, it needs to make the...jump...to... Oh! ... _Oh!_...Crap!"

"That's what I thought."

-o-

Sam began pacing back and forth, talking half to himself as he went. Dean waited quietly, not wanting to upset his brother too hastily, and also giving Sam the chance to spot the flaw for himself.

"Ok. Err. Think it through. We know you're safe, 'cos of the anti-possession symbol, don't we? Yeah, yeah we do. So, assuming whatever it is would need to jump to the nearest unprotected living thing...You might want to give Jodie a heads up. The guy that was with you? He needs containing and isolating. Then I guess we need to get over there, give exorcising him a go. Yeah, it's about all we've got. Unless you think maybe _pretty please_ would work? _Dammitt Dean_. This' sooo not good!"

Dean decided he needed to step in.

"You're right, it's not good...Now, consider this Sam. Assumin' this thing when it switches _does_ aim for the _nearest_ warm body? Who that _is_ would depend on when the switchin' takes place. Is it generally straight after the kill, or, does it hang around, like it seems to have done in Barry's case? What I heard and saw, he was still possessed an' the fugly had him strung up. It wasn't suicide, things moved too quick. If that was true with all the previous so called suicides an it had to hop off as they died, shouldn't the next vics possessed _all_ have been members of Jodie's team?"

Sam froze in mid-pace, staring at Dean while he mentally broke down what Dean had suggested and began weighing up the pieces. Bobby's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Looks like I'm missin' out on somethin'. Anybody round here goin' to bring me up to speed?"

-o-

Not bothering with any hello's, Sam leaped straight in.

"Bobby! Barry Farrell's dead..."

"Yeah, I heard. His parents rang the Cole's an' Mrs Cole passed the bad news to me. You ok Dean?"

Dean stood up.

"Glad you're back Bobby an' yeah, I'm fine. Sam can bring you up to speed, I'll be outside. I need to make a call, an' it's not a happy one."

Bobby turned back to Sam once Dean left the room to head outdoors. His expression grim, he folded his arms across his chest.

"So kid. Spit it out. What you two come up with?

-o-

Sam quickly told him about Dean's experiences at the Sheriff's HQ, and his own prior worry regarding external control being in play. Finally he broke the news that whatever was possessing people, unlike their understanding of how these things worked, might _not_ have to jump to the _nearest_ person when swapping host. It now seemed probable it was employing a different tactic, given that neither Jodie or any of her team so far had been possessed. Keen to think about something else, Sam switched his focus onto Dean when the older Winchester returned.

"How did your call go?"

Dean shrugged wearily.

"I gave Jodie the crib notes, the guy had not long since set off home. She was on it straight away then rang me back. The guy's been called back urgently on the premise that the state police need to clarify the statement timings, make sure a certain Agent Sumners' timings match his. He didn't question it, no reason to, the timings _are_ impossible. The officer's gonna find himself waitin' around in the isolation cell, some crap about keeping him away from anythin' that might influence his original statement. Jodie said she try an' make it "homey" for him so he don't feel too much like a prisoner. She don't want him in there too long, a few hours max, or he'll likely get real angsty... _So_ , no pressure ...We simply gotta have a fast, _unsuspicious_ way to test him, an' come up with a way to shut this whole case down.

Sam voiced his unease.

"Problem is, our usual tests might not give reliable results here, not if we've got somethin' new."

-o-

Dean glanced between both Sam and Bobby.

"Guess that might also mean we can't trust my anti-possession tat, so maybe I gotta make myself cosy in the panic room till you two know what we're dealin' with, an' how it's travelin'?"

Bobby attempted to lighten the moment.

"How about we hold off from that just yet? Don't worry though son. If it comes to it, I'll make sure you get soft blankets an' a bottle...Just not the kinda bottle you'd _drink_ outta!...If we _did_ run a test an' this guy of Jodie's came up clean? I'd wanna test everybody _else_ who was there before I start huntin' round for my old urine bottle."

Dean feigned gratitude.

"You'd seriously lend that to me? Gee Bobby! You're a _real_ pal!"

"All part of my good nature."

"Does that good nature happen' to run to sandwiches?"

" _Sure_...You know where the bread lives. How about makin' enough for us all, while I fill you both in on what _I've_ got? Might be the break we needed to solve our biggest puzzle; like what the Hell is in play here?"

-o-

While Sam sat gazing thoughtfully at the pictures of the victims scattered over Bobby's montage, Dean's attention was still on Bobby's recounting of his time at the Cole's residence. He gave a snort of laughter and challenged Bobby.

"Oh, c'mon dude! You're dickin' around, _right_? You _hav'ta_ be!"

Bobby slowly shook his head.

"Nope. Not me. Hand on heart...It was The Water Babies. Thing is, soon as Jean got it off the shelf, nothin'. It was just a book, not even damp. I checked the shelf. Nothin again. Only evidence was the damp on the floor-rug. Jean put the book back, everything was fine. There's somethin' else though, she highlighted that the same thing had happened the day Julia died..."

"Bobby?"

Both Bobby and Dean looked towards Sam.

"Um...You already know one of the taps in the kitchen drips, don't you?...Not really had any time to fix it though?... _Have_ you...?"

-o-

There was a momentary silence, in which all three men looked from one to the other, until Bobby broke the silence, spinning on his heels and then striding into the kitchen.

" _Balls_!"

Sam watched the older Hunter go.

"That's a _no_ then."

Sam was about to follow Bobby when Dean placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and, instead, directed Sam to the suspect's list.

"He don't need a babysitter while he stands cussin' at his taps. Can you run through the crib notes on these three new suspect fuglies for me? Hang on...Rakshasa? Haven't we...? Oh, yeah! Your pals the clowns. I thought they just followed kids home, got invited inside by them, then ate the parents? When they're not terrifying big, brave Hunters that is...How come that's up there?"

-o-

Sam grimaced as he looked at the name, trying to stifle the shiver of disgust that ran through him. If Dean noticed, he made no comment.

"Yeah, well. Seems as well as bein' able to make themselves look like the evilest clowns around, the _Kings_ of evil lookin' clowns; Rakshasa can also _posses_ humans."

Dean actually flashed Sam a look of sympathy.

"Wow. Sorry to hear that Sammy. I guess the only upside is we know how to gank them."

Sam sighed.

"That's pretty much what I told myself, but if it _is_ a Rakshasa, this time it's sittin' inside a human host. Kinda blows out the brass knife method, don't you think?"

-o-

Despite Sam's horrible awareness of Winchester luck meaning it was almost inevitable their target would indeed turn out to be a Rakshasa, he couldn't help his snort of laughter at the look on Dean's face as his brother seemed to be contemplating the possibility of still using a blade and pronouncing the human host as collateral damage!

" _Dean_! Wipe that look off your face, it's not an option."

Dean feigned doubt.

"You _sure_ about that?"

" _Certain_ sure!"

Dean managed to look thoroughly disappointed.

"Oh. Ok, if you say so...What about this one then? En...Encantado? Incognito?

-o-

Three or four clangs and bangs sounded from the direction of the kitchen and were ignored by the brothers.

"An extreme outside possibility at best. First off, it originates from Brazil and second, the so called _mythology_ is tied to the Boto dolphin, a pink freshwater dolphin that lives only in the Amazon river; _definitely_ not a native creature."

"An import then. I wish people comin' over to live in the U.S. would stop haulin' their fuglies along with 'em! Don't they realise we've got enough of our own? It should be down there on the list of illegal imports you know? No foodstuff, no plants, no live animals and _definitely_ no freakin'...Whoa! Hang on... _How the Hell_ could a _pink_ ; seriously? Dolphin Encantadodoritoincognito manage to scam it's way through customs? I mean, even if it wore a suit an' tie, _somethin_ ' would still seem a bit fishy _._ Geddit?... _Fishy?_ "

"Jerk. Tryin' not to. Stickin' with reality, the only way I could see one bein' in the U.S. was if some touristy fish life centre had one imported for display."

"Ahh! Yup, that could work...All it'd have to do is sneak out at closin', then hop on a bus to Souix Falls. Genius!...Provided it remembered to dress casual so folks didn't recognise it."

Sam's clown fear forgotten, the brothers were both laughing when Bobby wandered back into the study.

"Nothin' wrong with either of them taps I can see. I'll worry about it if it starts up again. What've I missed this time?"

Grinning, Dean answered.

"We're about to take our little pinky off the list."

-o-

Sam repeated what he knew of the Encantado for Bobby, adding in the decision not to include it as a suspect, when Bobby made a suggestion.

"I dunno, don't be so hasty to get rid lad. Imagine a couple a' pink dolphins _were_ imported. Maybe then they adapted, _evolved_ if you like?"

Dean gave the older Hunter a seriously doubtful look.

"What? Like ditchin' the suit an movin' onto jeans an' a sombrero?"

Not having been party to Dean's previous flight of fancy, Bobby paused and stared at the younger Hunter..

"Son. Whatever it is you're smokin'? Give it up!...What I'm sayin' is, maybe they would start off by spendin' more time in their Encantado form. Then maybe as a way of escaping the confines of the pool, the Encantado gradually shifted and adapted to bein' able to survive longer an' longer on land, until it only needed to hit the water an' revert say once every 24 hours? Evolvin' that much might take years, but then you've got a new kind of Encantado, one that could easy move from place to place."

-o-

Dean looked shell-shocked.

"You're makin' this stuff up, right? _Right_?"

Bobby shrugged.

"If a thing can think, it can learn, don' matter what it is. An if a thing can learn, it's feasible it can learn to adapt; change what it does, improve on it, an' become more successful."

Dean gazed at the floor as, laughter gone, he considered the older Hunter's theory.

"I _so_ hope you're wrong old man, or we might as well wipe the whole list, 'cos it could be just about _anything_ on there! Sammy? C'mon, prove my man here wrong!"

Unfortunately, Sam's response didn't offer the reassuring, definitive counter argument that Dean would have preferred to hear.

"Sorry Dean, but I think Bobby's right. Up to a point anyway. Look, you and me have already dealt with a few supernatural things that adapted to survive. Remember Mr and Mrs Not so Merry Christmas, the Pagan Gods? They didn't like your _fudging_ language? Look how well _they'd_ integrated themselves; even taking to finding their own sacrifices. They got away with it 'cos they were careful, only slaughtering a couple of people, and by acting so "normal". They were actually _popular_ in that town! And how many vamps do we know actually live in castles and haul their coffins wherever they go? Then there was the Ghouls. They'd switched their normal diet from rotting corpses to eatin' fresh, living meat, remember?"

"Oh, I remember! _You_ were the dish of the day! Ok, things can adapt...Where does that leave us?"

Sam straightened up decisively.

"It leaves _me_ popping into town and carrying out an exorcism while you two take a look at the other possible I came up with, then revisit all the info Bobby already had and add in the new stuff. See if anything leaps."

Dean arched one eyebrow at his younger brother.

"What? Like a dolphin?"

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	9. Chapter 9

Chap. 9  
-oOo-

Dean watched Sam donning his jacket.

"How come it's _you_ who gets to do the exorcisin'?"

"C'mon dude! I've been stuck here all mornin'! It's _my_ turn for a field trip."

Already sitting himself down at his laptop, Bobby sided with Sam.

"Stop bein' such a poop-ass Dean an' let the kid go. Or is bein' stuck with me _that_ much ov'a ballsache?"

Dean held up both hands in surrender.

" _Jeeze! Ok_! Go on Sammy, get lost. I'll babysit here an' help Methuselah find his way round a computer. You ring us if you need backup, you hear me?"

"I hear and obey, Master...You two have fun together, I'll call when the jobs done."

-o-

Catching the Impala keys Dean threw to him, Sam rapidly made his escape before Dean insisted on accompanying him.

"Right lad. You'd better call out the spellin' for me? These ancient eyes don't see so well sometimes."

Dean glanced at the suspects list.

"K-I-S-H-A-N-T-A. You catch that? Or should I say it louder?"

"Idjit. Go pour a couple a' whiskey's while I take a look at this sucker."

-o-

"Hey Jodie, it's Sam. I'm on my way over to you. How's your guy doin'?"

Sat at her desk in her office, Sheriff Mills wearily rested her elbow on the desk top and cupped her chin in her hand, trying to stifle a yawn as she did so.

"Getting real testy. Got some good news for me yet?"

The sound of rapid knocking at her door half drowned out Sam's answer. The door was pushed open without waiting for an invite, and the worried face of one of her officers peered around it.

"Sorry to interrupt Sheriff, but a call just came in...Sounds like we've got something similar to the other killings, this time though we've been told the vic survived."

Jodie interrupted Sam, sure she had just misheard him anyway. _You're losin' it woman. Get a grip._

-o-

"Sam? I'm puttin' you on speaker so you can hear this...Go on Jack, give me the headlines."

Jack stared at the phone Jodie had set down on to the desk, briefly wondering who _Sam_ was?

"It's at First-Steps first school, one of the mothers, a Ms Skye Larken, just attacked her little lad."

Jodie held a hand up.

"Jack, the kid? He wouldn't be called Elliot, would he?"

"Yes ma'am! Elliot Larken, aged six. There's no Mr Larken, just the kid and his ma. Do you know the family Sheriff?"

Jodie frowned.

"No, but I've met the kid briefly. Couple'a weeks ago, I was at the school doin' a road safety lesson. This one little boy, Elliot, put his hand up an' volunteered for everythin'. An' he got it. I mean like, _really_ got what he was supposed to do before crossin' a road. He had it all word perfect! Afterwards though? When I mentioned his name, the Principal told me that the first road he faced now he'd had the lesson, he'd have no hesitation in running straight out into the middle of traffic if mom didn't hold onto him. The way she explained it, it's somethin' to do with him not bein' able to carry the _idea_ of somethin' over into _doin'_ of it in the real life situation."

Sam's voice cut in.

"Sorry...Give me the woman's name again officer?"

Jack cleared his throat before answering the mystery voice's query and hurrying on with his news.

"Um...Skye Larken...Sir. Report says she tried to strangle her kid in...

Again the mystery voice butt in.

"Tried? The kid's still alive?"

"Far as I know sir. She went for the kid in front of a bunch of parents and other kids, right at the school gates. Four of the parents intervened an' got her off the little lad. Ma'am, Jerry's already on-site, another couple of cars, the paramedics and a couple of Child Welfare officers are on route. Jerry's with the mother, he's holdin' onto her in one of the classrooms ma'am. Says now the initial shock's worn off, the other parents are wantin' to get _their_ hands on _her_!"

-o-

Jodie picked up her phone and switched the speaker function off.

"Thanks Jack. Get some back up over there. I want a couple of the men with Jerry, an' the prisoner bringin' straight back here. Tell somebody to clear the sidewalk outside the school gates and put up a cordon, nobody gets closer than the other side of the road, understand? Get hold of the school Principal. I want her an' any willin' staff outside an' talking to those parents, reassurin' 'em and calmin' things down. Get someone on to roundin' up any witnesses an' hold them inside the school; the rest can go. Tell 'em to get an interview room set up somewhere inside an' have at least a couple of officers start gettin' statements; an' make sure there's an officer goes to the hospital an' sticks with the kid! Congratulations Jack. I'm puttin' you in charge of co-ordinatin' everythin'. I want to personally interview the mother when she's brought in. An' I've got an officer sat in isolation who's got a family to get home to. Keep me updated Jack, an' let me know if you need a hand. One more thing...You've got my full permission to be thoroughly insultin' to any press or media types who try sniffin' around. You get all that?"

Jack snapped a salute.

"Yes _ma'am_!"

-o-

Waiting on the other end of the phone, Sam couldn't help but smile as he listened to Jodie reeling off her instructions to the officer. Finally, Jodie got back to him.

"Sam? You still hangin' on?"

"I'm here. What're you going to tell your guy in isolation?"

"Oh. I'll just tell him I've had a call to say the Bureau no longer want to talk to him but wanted me to thank him for his patience an' the valuable job he did today, or some other government style crap. You still plannin' on gracin' my humble office?"

"If that's ok with you? This woman, um, Skye Larken? _Seriously_? Anyway, I might be able to help out with her, maybe even end this thing."

"Really? How?"

Sam sounded a little hesitant.

"Well, um...Same thing I was planning to do with your officer...You know?...Try exorcising her...A bit."

-o-

Jodie realised that she hadn't at all misheard what Sam had been saying when she had interrupted him. She gave a resigned sigh.

"Of _course! Obviously_ you'll need to do that. It's a service I like to offer _all_ my special prisoners. I'm curious though. How do you exorcise someone _a bit_? You let their head spin just the once? No! _Don't_ answer that, just get that ass of yours on over here, an' don't bother about the speed limits... _This_ time."

-o-

Hanging up, Jodie now rested both her elbows on her desk and bowed her head, supporting her forehead in the cups of her hands while she tried to gather the energy and the will to survive the next few hours. The door to her office opened again, softly this time, and the smell of fresh coffee brought her head up. Jack smiled sympathetically at her as he quietly set down a mug of coffee and two headache tablets in front of her. Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, he added a bar of milk chocolate to the coffee and tablets.

"I've apologised to Frank, told him the feds don't need to see him and passed on their thanks for his co-operation. He's on his way home, hope that's ok. The isolation cell's been got ready for when Ms Larken arrives. I've taken the risk of putting her a couple of fresh blankets in there and a box of tissues. I'll make certain she gets a hot drink and that she's observed constantly till you're ready to talk to her. Something's going on around here that's different to normal, I get that. I'll make certain she knows you want to help make things right for her."

Jack turned and left the office, closing the door quietly. For a while Jodie sat staring unblinking at the closed door, the threat of tears making her eyes glisten. Then she sniffed loudly, rubbed her nose on her shirt sleeve and picked up the coffee; closing her eyes in pleasure as she breathed in the rich aroma. _Very next promotion is all his_.

-o-

Returning with two generous sized whiskeys, Dean pulled a chair up alongside Bobby and looked at the laptop's screen, surprised to see a pencil sketch showing an attractive woman, her expression wary as she emerged out from a body of water.

"Is that this Chianti thing?"

"Idjit! _Kishanta._ An' yup. That's it. Says it most often lives in water but takes female form to get about on land. Has an advanced telekinetic abilities. Also capable of possessin' an' controlin' humans, gets it's victims to do exactly what it wants, usually it's not somethin' good ... _Ah-hah_! Listen up. Seems it can be a regular jealous bitch by all accounts."

Dean was gazing up at the montage, homing in on the picture of the elderly couple who were the first in the chain of similar cases. He muttered to himself.

" _Yahtzee_."

Bobby turned from the screen.

"Sounds like you're thinkin' what I'm thinkin'. Your genius kid brother might've managed to dig up our Most Wanted...Little Miss Kishanta here."

Dean grinned.

"Didn't the old man an' his wife live up by a lake, the first vics? It's _gotta_ be the one! Think about it. Water dwellin', check. Human possessin', check. That part about it bein' the jealous type, an' our fugly makin' it's vics kill the people they love? Check, check. I vote we let the pink dolphin wear whatever he likes, I'd stake my baby on this Kishanta bein' our perp. Gotta love Sammy!..The whole water thing could also tie into the leaky Water Babies...An' maybe your drippin' tap?... _Oh for_...An' the damn coffee!... _Moron_."

"Thanks...I don't recall you bein' _forced_ ' to drink it."

"Not you, _me_! An' not _your_ coffee, Barry's."

"You've officially lost me son. Care to clarify?"

"I was there Bobby, lookin' right at it, but too dumb to see it...There wasn't any coffee left, Barry'd drunk it all!"

"I'm tempted to point out that if there was none left, that'd kinda explain why you couldn't see it; an' then I'd have to agree with the part about you bein' dumb. But, seein' as how I ain't got the first clue what you're babblin' on about...?"

Dean forced himself to slow down.

"Ok. When I first went in to talk to Barry Farrell? I remember he was fidgetin' about with an empty coffee mug. But, when I was coming away from him, just before the door was fully closed? I remember his mug bein' stood in the middle of a pool of coffee that had leaked and managed to spread almost over the whole table top. I was too dumb to see what was really wrong about it then, but, what I saw? It wasn't possible. Like I said, his mug was empty when I first went in to talk to him... _Shit_ Bobby. If I hadn't been such a dumb _asshat_ , I could'a saved that kid! He's dead 'cos I missed it. I let him down!

Dean's recent good spirits plummeted.

-o-

Jodie stared at the bar of chocolate, almost able to hear the damn thing calling out to her, tempting her to have just one small piece. What harm could just one small piece do? Didn't she deserve it? Just a couple of squares, get some of those happy chemicals released into her brain. What could be so bad about that? Jodie's expression switched and she glared at the bar.

"About four pounds straight onto each hip, _that's_ what's so bad!"

Instead, she picked up the phone and dialled Bobby Singer's number.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	10. Chapter 10

A.N AUTHOR NAME : _Just a heads up to let you know I'm going to revert back to just "Chick Feed" as my author name._ Chick xx  
Chap. 10  
-oOo-

Bobby knew all too well the potential impact that a new dose of self blame and self induced guilt could have on the elder Winchester when added on to the heavy burden he already carried inside wherever he went. Right now, Bobby couldn't afford to risk Dean withdrawing into himself. He decided to forego the sympathy.

"You might be right, you know? It's possible that if you'd responded different, maybe you _could'a_ saved him. What is it you think you should'a done?"

Dean huffed.

"Well, for _starters_ , I should've never let that door be closed on him."

"Oh, I see! Well, in that case, I'm sorry lad. Here I've been left thinkin' that's exactly what went down, as soon as somethin' seemed off. Way Sam told it, he had me believin' you _had_ stopped the cop from closin' the door. But you're sayin' that's not what happened then? You never managed to stop Jodie's man from shuttin' the door closed? That right?."

Dean opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again, giving Bobby a hard frown before trying again to answer.

"Um, no...I mean, _yeah_? I _did_ stop the officer, at first, but then this Kishanta thing yanked it shut...Um..."

Bobby looked suitably enlightened.

"Riiiight, my mistake again! But I geddit now. I get why you say it's your screw up, an' now when I think about it, you're probably right! Sounds to me like you didn't read that _other_ sign. If you had, you would'a saved him lad."

Dean's brows scrunched even closer together as confusion and annoyance set in.

"Bobby, your mouth's openin', there's words, but I haven't got a clue what you're talkin 'bout. _What_ other freakin' sign?!"

"There's no point gettin' your panties in a knot! It's simple, if you'd read it you would'a known Barry was still playin' host to the Kishanta, an' what was goin' to happen next. Then you would'a saved him."

Dean was becoming exasperated.

"For _crapssake_ man! What sign did I miss?"

Bobby's eyes widened innocently.

"That big flashin' neon one vics _always_ have floatin' above 'em o'course. I'm sure Barry's will've been flish-flashin' somethin' like; _I'm still possessed. you're gonna get locked out, monster's gonna kill me_ " at you."

-o-

His mouth held in a thin line, Dean glared heated blades at his second father.

"Somethin' wrong with just sayin' _No way you could've known Dean, not your fault_?"

Bobby gazed sadly at Dean.

"Yeah, there is...You wouldn't have listened...You didn't let young Barry down son. You recognised somethin' was off. You tried to get in there an' save him. Now if you wanna overlook those two simple facts? Go ahead. Then you're welcome to wallow, just let me know if that's your plan then Sam an' me'll get on with stoppin' these killin's."

-o-

Bobby was held back from instinctively going after Dean, when the younger man walked quietly out of the house, by the sound of his phone. Following the ring-tone to track his phone down, Jodie's name flashed up. Bobby answered her call while stood at his kitchen sink, looking out of the window to where he could Dean standing with his back to the house.

"'Lo Jodie. Everythin' workin' out over there?"

The silent pause before Sheriff Mills spoke forewarned of yet more bad news.

"Sure...Just not well. There's a woman being brought in, might be another one of these possession type cases. Difference is, the victim survived...Thought you'd wanna know."

Bobby eagerly pressed the phone closer to his ear.

"Go on, I'm listenin'. What makes you think this might be one of ours?"

"It's a parent, the mother. I'm told it looked like she was tryin' to kill her own little boy outside the school gates while she was surrounded by other parents an' some of _their_ little kids. The boy survived 'cos she was taken down by four of the other parents. Until she gets here, that's pretty much all I got. Kids been taken to the hospital, I've got people with him...Child Welfare's there as well, but we're not talking bad parent here Bobby. Far as I know, the woman idolises the boy...Well? You think it _could_ be another one?"

"I guess it's possible. Is Sam with you yet?"

"Signin' in at the front desk as we speak, he knows about this new incident, wants to have a chat with the mother, if she'll agree to see him."

"Persuade her if you can Jodie. It'd be a big help."

Jodie nodded her head.

"I'll do my best...Oh, Sam's just walked into my office, you wanna talk to him?"

"Nah, I've gotta go deal with the other one, he's sulkin' outside. Do me a favour? Tell Sam it's the Kishanta, an' to keep on his toes, it might still be inside like it was with Barry, ok? Ask him to ring me once he's seen her."

"Kishanta. Might still be inside, _gross_! Ok, will do."

Ending the call, Jodie stood and moved around to the front of her desk to greet Sam.

"Hey there Handsome. Did you catch that?"

"Hi Jodie. Yup, think so. It's a Kishanta that's at work, it might not have left the host yet, so I've got to be careful.. That about right?"

"Pretty much covers it. Oh, an' your brother's sulkin' apparently...What's a Kishanta?"

-o-

Bobby glanced out of the window again, seeing no sign of Dean. He sighed, feeling irritated he was tempted to leave Dean alone. They really didn't have time for any amateur dramatics. To Bobby's eternal embarrassment, he couldn't stop himself from jumping when Dean's polite cough from behind startled him.

"Jeeze lad. You shouldn't go around creepin' up on your elders an' betters like that!"

Dean smiled.

"I suppose you also insist anythin' you're huntin' remembers to stomp loudly if it's plannin' on comin' up behind you?"

"I'm gonna treat that comment with haughty distain...Jodie called. There might've been another incident, this time though, nobody died thankfully. A mom was stopped when she tried stranglin' her own her kid when she was collectin' the little lad from school. Lad's at the hospital, mum's been arrested. Sam's over with Jodie an' he's gonna try talkin' to the woman. We should know for sure if it's another one of ours when he rings later...How're _you_ feelin'?"

"Like I've had a kick up the backside from somebody who cares? I get it, an' you're right Bobby. Barry died, even though I did try to stop it. It's not on me...That ok for you?"

"Depends. Do you believe it?"

"Yes."

"Then it'll do. Now, let's get on an' figure out how we kill this bitch!"

-o-

Jodie popped a square of chocolate into her mouth and passed the bar over to Sam.

" _Why's_ this thing so jealous of people who love somebody then? I assume there _is_ a reason?"

Sam broke off a piece of the chocolate and handed the remaining bar back to Jodie.

"Depends what you read, but the most repeating theme is that the original Kishanta was a human female who went on to commit suicide by drowning herself. The article I read described her as having a very sheltered upbringing, to the point of abusive. She wasn't allowed out and had no contact with any other adults or children. She was home tutored, which came down to learning to read the Bible. Her parent's never took her anywhere outside the family home, not even when she was ill. Apparently they never said her name or spoke about her to anyone; most locals didn't even know there _was_ a kid. They were both ashamed of her and what they believed she represented. Her existence was proof that, like Adam and Eve, her parents had given in and, on one occasion, repeated the first sin, given into temptation and had intercourse. Nine months later, when her father witnessed her mother undergo the pain of giving birth to the girl at the family home, they decided that the child was their punishment from God for having made love, and she was kept hidden from the world until both parents died in an RTA. From there, legend has it that after never seeing any man or woman other than her parents, she fell hopelessly in love with the very first guy she saw. She became obsessed, following him everywhere, generally being creepy and stalkerish. Unfortunately, the object of her affections was already very happily married, and he rejected her outright. Not long after, she was seen walking into the lake near her home. Her body was never recovered."

"Wow! _Unlucky_! No wonder she's got a rep. for being the insanely jealous type; emphasis on _insane_! So, what? Her bones hang around in the lake until one day _poof_ , she turns into this Kishanta thingy, 'an she's back?"

"I think there's more to it than _poof._ My theory is that a Kishanta is either a particular type of vengeful spirit, or a specific daemon variant. That's something we still need to test, then we'll have a better shot at tracing what these things are vulnerable to."

Jodie suddenly sat bolt upright in her chair.

" _Whoa_! Hold on there cowboy! _These_? She's not the only one?"

"If I'm right and it's a type or a variant? There'll be others. Whether we're actually dealing with the first one, the Alpha? I can't say."

A brief knock and Jodie's office door opened just enough to let Jack poke his head through.

-o-

"Sheriff? Ms Larken's here, um...She's keen to speak with you?"

"Thanks Jack. Give me ten minutes, huh?"

Jodie waited for the door to close again before speaking.

"Ok. This exorcism you wanna try? That's to test your theory?"

"Partly, or if I'm really lucky? It might even get rid of the thing altogether."

"What's the risks?"

"None, either to the meat suit she's ridin, you, me or your team, hopefully. That's if she'll agree to me seeing her alone and giving it a shot."

Jodie nodded her understanding, and reluctantly dragged herself up from her chair.

"Fine, let's go then. Is there anythin' you need for this... _Process_?"

"Nah. I've got it covered thanks."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	11. Chapter 11

_Sorry to have taken so long to post, will try not to let it happen again, honest!  
_ Chap 11  
-oOo-

Skye began to tremble as she was booked in and the official charges against her logged. She was certain people wouldn't lie to her about recent events, but she had no recollection of attempting to kill her son and couldn't understand why she would do ever do such a horrendous thing, Elliot was her whole life. One of the officers who was there to meet her when she arrived _Jake...Jack?_ had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and, to Skye's confusion, given her a sympathetic smile before he and a female officer, who introduced herself as Liz, escorted her down to the cells. Liz had her arm around Skye's shoulders and Skye leaned into her while they walked, desperate for the warmth and comfort of another person. Her current circumstances being way beyond her experience, she wasn't sure what she would have expected but, even so, she was surprised at the level of concern shown towards her by the officers involved. Although Skye was grateful, the lack of disgust and accusatory looks made the whole situation seem even more unreal, more like a bad dream she couldn't wake up from. That is, until she and the two officers came to a halt outside the very real metal door of a cell. She watched Jack unlock heavy the door, ready to put her inside, and panic flooded through her.

"No...I won't... _Please_...I want my baby, I want to see my boy. You mustn't put me in there. You can't! _Where's my baby_! Where's Elliot? He needs me, he needs me...!"

-o-

"I've got somethin' here Bobby."

Dean and Bobby were both in the study, Dean on Sam's laptop and Bobby working on his. Bobby glanced up.

"Go on."

"It's just a brief reference in a piece about possession generally. It's sayin' that as far as anybody knows, Kishanta are always female with a history of shitty lives and who, as a result, go on to commit suicide by drownin' themselves."

Bobby's face fell.

"They?...Plural?"

"Fraid so!"

"Well, that's just _great_ ain't it? There anymore info?"

"No, that's all it's got. Kinda makes me think vengeful spirit type though. How about you?"

"I guess so. Gotta be worth chasin'. You gonna let Sam know?"

"No need. I picked this up by following his search history, there's a couple more sites I need to look at, maybe they'll have more detail."

Bobby arched his eyebrows, looking impressed.

"Nice move. Never realised you'd got that technical! Not just a pretty face, are you?"

"Nope. I'm a genius _an'_ pretty. Pretty handsome anyway."

"Not to mention vain...What else had our Boy Wonder unearthed then?"

Dean instantly adopted an Adam West style Batman voice.

"Hold onto your fish there, Penguin. While I, _Batman_ , cleverly re-trace the trail unwittingly left by my not-as-pretty-as-me sidekick!"

Bobby snorted a laugh.

"Batman? Yeah, right. I'm thinkin' _Super-Idjit_ sounds better."

-o-

Leading the way, Jodie paused as she and Sam drew level with the staff break room, she turned to look up at Sam.

"Would you mind hanging out here, make yourself a coffee while I go have a chat with Skye first? You know, pave the way for you?"

Sam nodded his understanding.

"Sure. No problem."

Jodie looked relieved.

"Great. Thanks. I'm just not sure how I'm goin' to sell this to Skye but, if she agrees, I'll come get you."

-o-

Liz respectfully stood when Jodie entered the isolation cell, whereas Skye stared at her fearfully through red rimmed eyes. Jodie smiled at the frightened woman, hoping to relax her a little.

"Hello Ms Larken, My name's Jodie Mills, I'm the Sheriff. Is it ok if I call you Skye?"

Jodie didn't miss how Skye glance up at Liz for reassurance, before answering in a small voice.

"Ok...Do you know how Elliot, my little boy, is? Is he ok? They're goin' to take him away from me, aren't they? You can make them let me see him, they'll listen to you. I need to tell him I'm sorry, tell him I love him..."

At a glance from Jodie, Liz had already resumed her spot alongside the distressed woman. She clasped Skye's hand in both hers when Skye reached for her and made reassuring shushing noises to the young woman. Skye quickly responded, halting her flow of questions and, instead, lowering her gaze to the floor. Pulling up one of two chairs in the cell, Jodie sat herself down opposite Skye.

"Skye honey. I know you're scared, but I promise, everyone here wants to help make things right."

Jodie was a little bemused when, at her words, Skye broke down into heart wrenching sobs, fast tears racing each other down her face.

"Why...Why is ev'rybody...Bein' so...n...n...nice to me?...They're sayin' I...I tried to...I...Oh God. _Elliot_!"

-o-

Jodie sighed, the woman certainly didn't seem like someone who was possessed. No sliding up the cell walls, no spinning head. She just seemed like a young mum who's life had suddenly turned crazy. Maybe the thing _wasn't_ inside her anymore? Jodie glanced at Liz. _Maybe..._? The Sheriff shook her head, refusing to allow herself to follow through with that particular thought. Leaning forward, Jodie reached out to rest a hand on the young woman's knee.

"Skye? Look, I've got someone waitin' that I'd like you to have a talk with. I think he could be helpful. Would it be ok with you if I bring him down to meet you?"

Skye gripped Liz's hands harder as she raised her eyes and looked searchingly at Jodie.

"It's not...Not a _shrink_. Is it?"

Jodie glanced quickly at Liz before answering. _Ahh What the Hell. I'll just have'ta go for it, try an' convince Liz I'm not crackers later._

"No. He's not a shrink, I promise. But he _is_ someone who thinks he might be able to help. Skye, I need you to listen carefully, 'cos this' gonna sound weird. _Then_ you can decide whether or not you want to see him. Ok?"

Skye sniffed and nodded.

"Ok."

-o-

Liz didn't know who this person was that Jodie referred to, but she could clearly sense an air of discomfort about Jodie and she wondered if it was something to do with her own presence?

"Ma'am? Would you prefer me to leave? Although, no offence, but you can trust me. I swear."

Jodie considered Liz's offer, noticing how Skye shuffled closer to Liz, clearly not wanting to be separated from the officer. Jodie decided it was better to let Liz stay, Skye obviously trusted her.

"Thanks for that Liz. I think Skye would like you to stay...So would I. Skye? The guy I'd like you to talk to is an FBI Agent. He's called Sam an' he thinks he might know why you can't remember what's happened. He's wonderin' whether you were bein' influenced by someone? Kinda like if you'd been hypnotised? And then told to do things you wouldn't do normally. Understand?"

Skye looked wide eyed at Jodie.

"No, I don't...I've never seen a hypnotist in my whole life!"

Jodie decided to stick with the hypnotism theme, it felt a whole lot better and easier than saying "possession".

"Sam thinks things could've been done without you knowing. Like if before he or she woke you up again, the hypnotist told you to "forget" you'd ever even seen a hypnotist?"

Jodie worked hard to ignore the look of incredulity shot her way from Liz

"But, why would a hypnotist tell me to _kill_ my Elliot? What harm's he ever done to anyone? He's so young!"

"I can't answer that Skye, but Sam? He'd like to have a go at makin' certain you're not bein' influenced anymore. He's sure you're innocent; we _all_ think you probably are, an' we'd like to make certain you an' Elliot can go home an' move on from all this...Isn't that right Liz?"

Jodie gave a small smile of appreciation as Liz immediately lent her support.

"Definitely... How about you meet him Skye? Have a chat first, and then see what you think?"

Skye squeezed Liz's hand.

"Will you stay with me?"

Jodie gave Liz the smallest shake of her head and answered for her.

"Liz has to take a break, but she'll fetch Sam down first an' _I'll_ stay with you. Ok?"

-o-

Sam glanced up expectantly at the sound of footsteps heading toward the break room. Instead of Jodie, a slender red head entered the break room, hesitating when she saw Sam. Sam gave her a friendly smile.

"Hi...I'm just waiting for Sheriff Mills...Please, say if you want me to go and let you have your break in peace...?"

Liz was only half listening, her mind otherwise occupied. _Oh Help! Look at him, he's so tall, an' he's sooo drop dead gorgeous, an' tall, with legs an' everything! Oh, please, don't let me drool!_ She took a swift glance down at herself, wishing she wasn't dressed in her dreary uniform. _Or maybe he's the type that likes uniforms? Oh yes! Let him like women in uniforms!_ She realised that the Agent, _Sam,_ had stopped speaking and was watching her, an amused smile dancing on his lips. Liz felt the blush rising on her cheeks.

"Huh _? Oh!_! Um, right, I know. Jo...I mean, _Sheriff Mills_...She sent me...You know, to um...fetch... _Oh, poop it!"_

Sam's amusement increased. Watching Red take a couple of deep breaths while she desperately sought to re-gather herself,

"Sorry. Total tongue failure there...Um, I mean... _Oh boy_! Ok. Did _any_ of that babble make sense, Agent? Or would you like me to humiliate myself again and have another go?"

Sam was openly grinning.

"I'm pretty sure I got the gist. And please, call me Sam. And you?"

"Me? Oh. Um...Liz...I'm Liz."

Sam chuckled, quietly enjoying the impact he was having on Liz.

"Are you sure? Only, you sound a bit uncertain?"

Liz met his eyes _Lovely,, lovely eyes_ feeling a little irritated at his teasing, given that they had only just met.

"I'm quite certain. If you're ready?"

Liz waved a hand towards the corridor and waited for Sam to go in front. Walking along, Sam smirked, he could feel Liz's eyes on him. He glanced back over his shoulder, catching her with her eye's focused firmly on his butt.

"Everything ok back there Liz?"

Unaware that Sam had caught her out, Liz nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh yeah...Everything's just fine."

His eyes to the front, Sam grinned in amusement to himself and found himself wondering whether he should ask her to go for a drink with him once the timing was more appropriate?

-o-

Jodie came out of the isolation cell in answer to Liz's knock and linked arms with Sam, clearly at ease with him. Catching Liz's wistful gaze, Sam winked at her. Hurriedly turning away in embarrassment, Liz stared hard at the floor, intensely irritated by it's refusal to provide a hole for her to crawl into.

"She's agreed to see you Sam...I've told her you think she might've been hypnotised and you want to make sure she's not still under some kinda influence. Hope you can work with that?"

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	12. Chapter 12

Chap 12  
-oOo-

Once more sat alongside Skye, Liz noted yet another shared glance flit between the Sheriff and Sam. There was something out of the ordinary going off here, something she now knew had nothing to do with hypnotism. She could see it in the pair's eyes, _sense_ it all around her, and she wished she knew what the truth was. Liz was an intuitive cop, she trusted her gut feelings; they hadn't put her wrong yet throughout her ten years on the force. She had been born and raised in Sioux Falls, and had got wind of some pretty odd events over the years. It worried her that the suggestion of some mad serial killer hypnotist being on the loose was thought by Sam and her boss to be a more acceptable explanation than whatever was _really_ happening! Staying quiet and trying to "chameleonize" herself against the dull cell decor, Liz hoped nobody would ask her to leave before Sam did whatever it was that he was going to do.

"Liz?"

The officer jumped when Sam startled out of her inner musings.

" _Sir_! Yes sir?"

"Please, Sam's fine. What I'm planning here is...Unusual, but that's the kinda stuff I deal with."

Liz grinned.

"You sound like you're some kinda real life Scully...Are you?"

"I guess I am, except that I'm not a woman."

"No. No. You're _really_ not... _Oh_! I, um, I didn't mean to say...!"

Liz cringed inwardly, seeing Jodie roll her eyes when Sam glanced at her for help. Turning to Liz, the sheriff addressed the more junior officer in a no nonsense manner.

"Alright, so you noticed. He's hot... _Now get over it_! You've got a choice. Go back upstairs and make a start on my paperwork, or stay here with Sam. Personally, I really don't mind if you'd rather go ahead an' start the paperwork? If, however, you stay an' help Sam? You gotta promise you won't freak out if things get kinda, _weird_. Over to you, what's it to be, Officer?"

"Ma'am, I'll be happy to help out with the paperwork but, if it's alright, I'd like to stay with Miss Larken first."

Jodie nodded, satisfied.

"Good. Sam, anythin' you need before I head off to go snack on a gaggle of reporters?"

-o-

Skye squeezed Liz's hand while Sam spoke gently to the woman, making certain he held both Skye's gaze and her attention.

"I know how crazy this must sound Skye. Remember, it's just a theory, but you have no memory of trying to hurt Elliot. A skilled hypnotist can block an individual's specific memories, alter their perceptions, have the individual "see" what they want the person to see, replace their memories with false ones and alter an individual's usual behaviours. Skye, if that _is_ what happened to you? I think I have a way to break any control over you."

Desperate hope flared into life within Skye's eyes.

"Does that mean I can see my baby again soon? Will I get my Elliot back? I'll do _anythin_ ' to get him back I swear. _Anythin'._..I love him, so much. _So_ much."

Sam made the devastated woman a vow.

"I promise, I'll do everything I possibly can to make things right for you Skye. _Whatever_ I can to help get you and your little boy back together. Alright?"

-o-

With a nod of his head, Sam signalled Liz to move away from Skye and stand by him. Next he pulled out a small muslin bag out of a jacket pocket, holding up for Skye to see.

"This' just normal salt Skye. First, I need you to stand in the middle of the room...There's fine. I'm going to use the salt to mark out a circle on the floor around you. Your job is to stay within the circle. Don't move out of it till I tell you it's safe. Got that?"

"Sure. Stay inside the circle you're drawing on the floor with salt...Um...Why?"

"It's a precaution, it's to help keep you, and us, safe. Nobody can try to make you hurt anybody else if you're inside the circle."

Skye sounded doubtful.

"A circle of seasoning can do that?"

Skye looked to Liz, gauging her reaction. Liz kept her expression neutral, hiding her own doubts, reminding herself of the sheriff's caution not to freak out. Clearly the sheriff must have expected some bizarreness to take place. Liz shrugged calmly.

"Versatile stuff, seasoning. Although, people who're superstitious and spill salt _do_ throw some over their left shoulder, supposedly to keep the Devil away. So maybe it's just a bigger version of that? This' definitely more interesting than just sprinkling it over food though, don't you think?"

Skye smiled weakly at Liz as Sam completed the salt circle.

"I guess so...Now what?"

Sam cleared his throat before answering.

"Ok...I need you to stay with me on this ladies...Next I've got to say a special sort of, um, chant. You know, sorta like an incantation? No, forget that. It's more like a prayer?"

Two pairs of eyes openly stared at Sam, and he began to reconsider his thoughts about asking Liz out, assuming his chances of rejection were likely to have suddenly increased, by many. Liz's dead pan comment, when it came, made him snort embarrassingly with laughter, at which point he resigned himself to the fact that the chances of Red saying _Yes_ had to have deteriorated even further as a result.

"Not an incantation? Good to know. Any chance you can guarantee there'll be no white rabbits randomly poppin' out your pockets? Only, I'm not really a fan. Somethin' about their little pink eyes I think."

Sam averted his eyes from the comically hopeful expression on Liz's face, focusing on Skye instead.

"No white rabbits, I'm not a magician. I get how completely crazy this seems, but, Skye? Liz? I'm asking you both, _please_. Trust me, and let me at least give this a go?"

Fully aware of the unfair advantage it gave him, Sam turned the puppy eyes up to the max.

-o-

Waiting for Sam to start, Liz made a mental note to ask Sam what the real purpose of the salt circle was; she was sure he'd not given Skye the full story. Not certain what to expect next _Maybe a cloak with stars an' moons on it like a wizard's an' Sam reading from a huge dusty old spell book he magics out of thin air?_ Liz was surprised when Sam began to say the words to a _Poem? Prayer?_ his voice pitched at it's usual conversational tone. Liz's ear's pricked up however when she focused on the actual words; horrified when she realised what the Agent appeared to be doing.

"Exorcizo te omnis spiritus immunde in noimine Dei, patris omnipotentis et in noimine Jesu Christi filii ejus, Domini Judicis nos tri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti, ut descedas ab hoc plasmate..."

Liz wasn't exactly the regular church going type, but she had happily sat through enough horror films to recognise the start of the Right of Exorcism when she heard it! _What the Hell...?_ Her mental exclamation was threefold, first came the shock of word recognition, closely followed by a more practical worry. _Please! Tell me Agent Ultra Hot Hunk's not a damn priest?_ And finally her realisation that the Agent must be thinking that Skye was, of all things, possessed! This was definitely _not_ her normal day at the office.

-o-

Sam came to the end of the exorcism and the three individuals stared at one another, no one speaking, all waiting. Skye was first to break the silence.

"Well?...Did it work?"

-o-

Sam seriously doubted that his exorcism had made any impact, if it had, then it was the calmest and quietest banishing he had ever known, with the possessing entity leaving without any protest at all. He was worried. Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, he pulled put a small silver flask and cautiously held it out to Skye.

"Honestly? I don't know. Try having a drink out of this."

Liz reacted swiftly, it was her job to keep the prisoner safe and she moved her arm to block Skye from taking the flask.

" _Hold it_ both of you. What's in the flask, Agent?"

"Nothing dangerous Liz, I _swear_. Here, see for yourself."

Liz took the flask. Unscrewing the lid, she sniffed at the liquid inside. Getting no strong odour, she poured a little into the lid of the flask which doubled as a shot beaker. _No real smell, no colour. Water?"_

Skye and Sam watched as Liz first dipped her finger into the liquid and touched her finger to her tongue, then drank down the contents of the little beaker, a look of mild surprise crossing her face. She smiled at Skye.

"It's ok honey, it's just water."

Relieved that there was no untoward reaction to either the silver or the Holy Water from Liz, Sam beamed at her.

"Told you it wasn't dangerous. Skye? Your turn now."

Skye shrugged her shoulders and accepted the re-filled silver beaker from Liz.

"Cheers. ... Yup, you're right, water... _Aaand_?"

Sam explained, as much as he felt was necessary.

"Holy water, poured into a silver flask. If either you or Liz were being, um, _controlled_ , your reactions to drinking the water or to holding the silver beaker would've been much more dramatic."

-o-

Liz couldn't help but see this as further evidence that the guy must be thinking Skye was possessed by the Devil or something. As soon as she had the chance to talk to this man without Skye being present, she had a whole list of questions she wanted answers to, questions she held onto for now.

"So Skye and me, we're both clear, we're not bein'... _Controlled_?"

"As best as I can tell? Yes, you're clear."

Liz nodded. Then tilted her head on one side as she gazed steadily up at Sam.

"And what about you? Ok, you're holdin' the silver no problem. Do we get to see you do the drinkin' part as well?"

Deciding it was easier than attempting to explain the tattoo both he and Dean sported, Sam filled the beaker a third time and swallowed down the Holy water.

"See? All clear here too."

Satisfied, Liz nodded, then her eyebrows drew together in a thoughtful frown.

"And what about the Sheriff? Did she drink already?"

-o-

Replacing the beaker on the flask, Sam froze in mid-action.

"Jodie?...Jodie. ... Ahh!... _Sonovabitch_!... **Jodie**! Liz? I gotta go. I gotta speak to the sheriff, an' make a call. I'll catch up with you later, ok?"

Sam was already getting to his feet as he spoke and he hurried toward the cell door, the urgency of his movements not lost on Liz.

"Sam? What's wrong? Is the sheriff in danger?...Sam?"

"I'm sorry. Later. Skye? I know you and Elliot'll be back home before too long, stay patient."

Desperate to get to Jodie, Sam hurried in the direction of her office as fast as he dare, not wanting to risk alarming any officers he might pass by. He couldn't afford to be waylaid.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	13. Chapter 13

Chap 13  
-oOo-

Jodie snatched up her mobile, answering it at the first few notes of her ring tone, the caller ID flashing up Bobby's name.

"Hey Bobby. You ringin' with good news I hope?"

Bobby's voice carried an undercurrent of excitement.

"Actually Sheriff Mills, I am doing just that! _We've got it_ girl! We know how to deal with this Kishanta bitch!"

"Bobby Singer, I love you! _And_ Dean, obviously. So, what's it take? Does it, by-any-chance, involve me havin' to hang on _really_ tight to the murderin' skeezy ho's neck with both hands? 'Cos I really don't mind doin' that."

Stood in his walk-in under stairs junk cupboard, Bobby continued peering around at all the general bric-a-brack that over time had ended up being tossed in there and forgotten about. Phone clamped against his ear with one hand, with his free hand he grabbed hold of an ancient, busted upright vacuum cleaner, lifting it out of the cupboard and plonking it down again behind him in the entrance hall. He chuckled at the sound of wicked delight in the Sheriff's voice.

"Fraid not lass, sorry to have'ta let you down. Anyhoo, it'd be the host you'd be hurtin', not the passenger. Turns out, it's a fairly straight forward thing. First...First..F...First.../...container.../...familiar chant...Powerful...Flame.../...Seal, cut off oxygen.../...Is...ammy still there?"

Bobby's explanation was broken up and his voice began fading in and out over the phone.

"Hello? Bobby? I keep losing you. Sam's with Skye, the latest vic; he's doin' an Exorcist number on her! Do you hear me?

"...hear you fine.../...No good. Wrong, wrong.../...Simple...Simple Sammy, simple Sam..."

The sound of Bobby's voice came to an abrupt end.

"Bobby?...Bobby, I've lost you, can't hear you. If you're gettin' this, couldn't make any sense outta some bits, but I'm guessin' the _exorcism's_ no good, you need to do somethin' simpler? I'm gonna go Bobby, try to stop Sam. I'll call you back on a landline...Ok?...Bobby?... _Damnitt_!"

-o-

Bobby gazed at his phone momentarily, before switching it off and tossing it to the back corner of the junk cupboard. Stepping back into the hallway he closed the cupboard up. Turning, he began strolling in the direction of the front door.

"Whoa! Where you think _you're_ goin'? Don't even _think_ about leavin' me searchin' this place on my own Bobby! What if I end up fallin' out the back of some big fusty old wardrobe an' end up trapped in Narnia, where some big old flea bitten Lion threatens he'll eat me unless I agree to stay there forever an' be King of the place?"

Looking back at Dean's wide eyed stare of feigned terror Bobby laughed, beaming affectionately at the younger man.

"Weeell. I guess you'd have'ta shoot the Lion then rely on your own half-wit to find your way outta there again."

Dean screwed his face up in disgust.

"Shoot the lion? Wha'd'you take me for? Looks like it'll have'ta be King Dean then. I ain't the kinda dickbreath who slaughters dopey lions 'cos it's the only way to get his tiny pebbles off... _Hey_!...Kings have servin' wenches, don't they? If not, it don't matter. I'll just make up some Kingly decree that says I gotta be surrounded by hot babe's wherever I go...I might even start my own Harem. Wha'd you think?"

Bobby stared at Dean, looking slightly dazed.

"I think that's one overactive imagination you got there son. I'm goin' to check the tool shed. I seem to recall there's a good container for this job in there. Mind you stay outta any wardrobes while I'm gone, here me?"

"Loud an' clear."

Heading back into the study, Dean sat himself down at Bobby's desk and saved the incantation they had found which claimed to have the power to force the Kishanta to exit it's host. As he named the shortcut, he became aware of a repetitive sound coming from the direction of the kitchen. It was the steady sound of a dripping tap.

-o-

Both hurrying from opposite directions, it was only some swift balletic footwork by Sam that saved Jodie and himself from the indignity of a full frontal collision.

" _Sam!_ I just talked to Bobby, kinda. They've figured out how to get rid of the Kishanta. I couldn't get the details though; we got cut off after he said an exorcism wouldn't work."

"It didn't...Here, I need you to drink some of this."

Recognising the flask for what it was, Jodie didn't question why as she took it from him and unscrewed the silver cap and took a swig directly from the flask itself.

"Ok?"

Sam had already hit speed dial on his cell, he shook his head no as he put the phone to his ear.

"I've figured what the link is between the people the Kishanta's targeted...It's you Jodie. _You're_ their link. In some way, you've either had contact with or knew them. C'mon Bobby. Why aren't you pickin' up now?"

Jodie continued to stare at Sam's profile in horrified silence while the Hunter focused on his phone, pulling up his brother's number, unaware of the impact his disclosure had on the Sheriff.

"Where the Hell _are_ they both? One of you, answer your phone damnitt!"

The quake in Jodie's quiet voice finally drew Sam's gaze. Noticing her pallor, he gave up on his attempts to speak to either Bobby or Dean.

"If that's true Sam, why hasn't virtually every member of my team been possessed? Or the owner of the late night store I called in yesterday? Why not them?"

Sam placed both hands on his distressed friend's shoulders and bowed his head to look her in the eyes.

"First, Jodie. Being the link doesn't mean you're to blame. It means you've been a target too. The first couple, Mr and Mrs Townsend; I'm guessing you went to the crime scene?"

Jodie looked perplexed.

"Well, yeah. I was on my way back home when my deputy contacted me sayin' a shootin' had been rung in...I headed straight round to the old couple's place."

"And you were first on site?"

"Not by much, but yeah...And you're thinkin' that's when some dead skank bitch used me to get access to more victims?...Sam! Was I possessed too? Be honest...Was I? Oh Jeeze! _I need a shower! I need a bleach bath! I need to book an emergency colonic irriga..,."_

Sam shook Jodie twice, hard enough to get her to break out of her sudden race towards an anxiety attack and focus on _him_ instead.

" _Jodie_! Jodie! Listen to me...You were _never_ possessed; not like those others. Understand?"

Jodie stared up into Sam's hazel green eyes, fixing on him while, mentally, she clawed and forced herself to back away from the brink of a fully fledged panic attack.

"N...not possessed? I wasn't? Honest?... _Ah-hah_! What d'you mean by _not like the others_? I gotta know, has that thing ridden around in me or not? 'Cos if it _has_ , I've got appointments to fix up!...Well?"

-o-

Sammy frowned as he thought for a moment, then..

"Ok, try looking at it this way. I think you were, _are_ , kinda like the broadband connection between two PC's. Does that help? At all?"

Jodie went bug-eyed.

" _Excuse me_? The Kishanta screw up's been usin' me to log on?"

"I guess, at least in terms of the computer analogy. So, it logs on, then it starts pickin' names at random from your contacts list...You know what? This conversation's getting weird. _Look_ , this _thing_ was rejected back in the day, before it died. So, I'd say it's jealous. It hates people who love each other, completely. Soul mates, like Barry and Julia. Or people who just have this _extra_ ordinary love for someone, probably so strong that losing them would be like Ying losing it's Yang."

"Right. So, it picks it's victims out my head, people who have an intense bond with someone else? People like, say...You an' Dean?"

Sam hesitated at Josie's words, his expression flitting from startled, through worry, then on to relief.

"No. No. We're ok. It can't get to either of us, tattoo's, remember?"

Jodie nodded.

"Right. So, Bobby? _He'll_ have one of these tattoo's as well? You remember Bobby? I spoke to him on the phone not long since. He's that guy who loves you like you were his, would do _anythin'_ for either of you and who is back at his place, with Dean, right now."

-o-

Dean stood and stretched, then headed into the kitchen for coffee and a look at what, for now, he was prepared to treat as a straight forward plumbing issue. Standing at the kitchen sink, he glared at the offending tap before finally utilising the standardised global _dripping tap fixing technique._ That of using sheer strength and stubbornness to forcibly encourage another paper's width of turn in the off direction out of the already very close to over-tightened tap. He smiled in satisfaction when the dripping ceased.

"There you go! Hadn't been turned off properly, had you, is all. It just needed the technical know-how."

-o-

Hearing the front door open, Dean called out.

"I'm in the kitchen Bobby...I fixed that leaky tap for you."

Grabbing two fresh mugs off the sink side, Dean glanced back as Bobby walked into the kitchen.

"See? No more drip...

Bobby watched as a teardrop of water relinquished it's hold on the tap and hit the basin, another drop already forming in it's wake. He turned to Dean, eyes crinkled in amusement.

"You were sayin'?"

...ping. _Sonova._..!

Dean handed Bobby a coffee while giving the tap a good scowling at.

"Traitor!"

"That's the spirit son, you call it names, cos that's sooo gonna help!"

Turning his back on the tap, Dean noticed Bobby's other hand was empty.

"No joy findin' the old jar then?"

Bobby gave an easy shrug.

"Nah. Don't matter much. There'll be somethin' lyin' round here somewhere that'll do the job. Fancy savin' an old man's weary bones? The box with the tools I keep for general house fixin' jobs' back in the workshop. You mind fetchin' it for me? I'm gonna make certain to fix this tap right, then we'll see if it still manages to drip.

Dean took an intentionally noisy slurp of his coffee.

" _Sure_ I will, an' after? You can tell me that story again about what it was your _last_ slave died of."

Heading out of the kitchen, Dean laughingly ducked the wet dishcloth Bobby threw after him.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	14. Chapter 14

Chap 14  
-oOo-

The moment he heard the front door close after Dean, Bobby strode into the study and across to his desk. Pulling open a drawer, he lifted out the pistol lying in there and checked how many rounds were in it. Although the clip was full, Bobby only planned on using two rounds, he wanted this to go as easy as possible for his boy, nice an' tidy. After all, he loved Dean more than anything. _Don' wanna cause my lad any needless hurt. This' a good thing I'm doin' here._ Bobby stared off into space, listening to the inner voice that spoke to him and him alone.

"Yes, I'm ready Old One. ... You do me a great honour Lady. ... Yes, he's precious to me also. ... No. This' what I need for him. ... I'm _happy_ to send my boy to you Old One, with my thanks."

Bobby came out of his trance like state to the sound of Dean's ring tone. Spotting it's source lying next to the coffee machine, Bobby picked it up and turned the phone off. On route to leaving the house, he paused briefly at the under stairs cupboard, opening the door and casually throwing Dean's phone inside to join his own.

-o-

Jogging back from his errand, Dean saw Bobby was waiting for him on the front porch. Slowing to a walk, Dean jerked his thumb back in the direction of Bobby's workshop.

"You know, once we're done with this case, I'll get on an' do some tidyin' up in there. There's a couple of roof repairs Sammy could do an' I'm thinkin' if I clean those oil spills that're on the floor, you might stop spendin' most of your time on your sat around on your ass in there. If you're ok with Sammy an' me hangin' round for a few days? We really should set up some regular times when we come over an' lend a ha...

-o-

So utterly unexpected, it wasn't clear at first to Dean what the powerful force was that had impacted and sent him staggering backwards, fighting to keep his feet. Momentarily confused, Dean looked down at himself and frowned, struggling to assemble his thoughts. At the sight of the first staining from his own blood slowly seeping through his tee, he was half convinced he must be in the throws of some nightmare. It wasn't until the breathtaking lance of burning pain hit him that Dean was finally shocked out of his stupor and he looked up, to see the gun clasped in Bobby's hand. Still not able to fully believe what had just happened, Dean stared, dumfounded, at Bobby.

"I _want_ you to stay son, but for longer than a day or two. I don't want you leavin' again _ever_ 'cos I know that hot head of yours is gonna lead you straight into danger over an' over. You've not got the foggiest how much I worry about you when you're out there, huntin' things. I'm sick of always waitin' around for you to turn up here 'cos you're injured. It breaks my heart every time I'm tryin' to piece you back together lad. All I wanna do is keep you safe Dean an', now I've been offered that chance, I intend to take it. This' all for your own good, see?"

Bobby wasn't making any sense at all and Dean briefly wondered whether having a bullet in his flank had somehow effected his ears? First Bobby decides to shoot him, then he starts spouting some crap about it being because he's wanting to keep him safe? Things had suddenly got seriously Alice in Wonderland screwed up around here.

-o-

This whole situation was nuts. Instinctively the need for self preservation kicked in, overriding everything else. Cautiously backing away from his old friend, Dean glanced around, weighing up his options while he quickly began speaking to Bobby, hoping to distract the older man from firing again by keeping him engaged in conversation, maybe even talk him out of whatever this was... _Possession! The Kishanta. Ah, shit_! ...for as long as he could.

"Um...Bobby? Y'know, you're right. I _didn't_ realise before how much you worry. Guess Sam an' me must'a both seemed pretty thoughtless? But see, now you've explained it, we don't have to go anywhere. We can stay here long as you want us to, that way you'll know we're both ok...Um... _Safe_. That sound like a plan to you? Look, how about you throw me your phone? Then you can listen in while I ring Sam right now an' tell him we want him to get his butt back here, home, with us?"

For the briefest of moments Dean's hopes raised when it looked like Bobby was actually considering his offer. Instead, however, Bobby made a confession that stunned Dean.

"Truth is boy...I don't worry over Sam like I do over you. Never have. Oh, I love the kid right enough. I do. But it's _you_ that's always been my favourite. I can't help the fact that you mean more to me than your kid brother does, an' I ain't apologisin' for it either. I mean, all his life Sam's had you lookin' out for him, watchin' his back, takin' care of him, straightenin' out his messes. Well, I'm thinkin' it's about time somebody looked after _you_. I want you to know, it means a lot to me hearin' you're happy to stay. Makes thing's easier. I _swear_ I won't drag this out my boy. You got my word on it. This next bullet'll be a kill shot...You won't be left sufferin' son, not by me. I would never do that to you, not for _anybody_. You can trust me on that."

-o-

Dean answered quickly, hyper alert to Bobby again raising the gun in his hand and seeing everything ahead and in his peripheral vision in ultra fine detail, like someone had switched his functioning onto super macro mode.

" _Bobby_ , _hold on_! Just... _wait_. I'm agreein' to stay here with you Bobby. That's what you want, isn't it? An' I'm saying _yes,_ so, there's no _need_ for any second shot, _right_?"

Bobby looked at Dean sadly, as if he was genuinely apologetic.

"I'm real sorry son; _real_ sorry. I wish to all the Gods I could believe you. But I know you to well boy. I know how easy you get bored. You're not used to stayin' in one place. We both know it wouldn't be long before those itchy feet of yours wanted to be movin' again, Huntin' again; an' then you'd be constantly hankerin' after leavin'. Only way to keep you here an' safe then would be lockin' you up in the panic room, an' you'd hate me for it. This way though? This' my chance to make certain you're looked after an' kept safe without needin' to be locked up. You're too much of a risk taker boy, too quick to sacrifice; an' I'm likely to lose you again 'cos of it. _This_ way we both get peace of mind. I know you must be hurtin' pretty bad there kiddo, so I'm gonna take it all away for you. I love you my lad."

-o-

Dean didn't bother answering, seeing Bobby's trigger finger tighten. Dropping the toolbox, he threw himself to one side as Bobby fired off the second shot, and then Dean was up and running, like a sprinter off the starting block, dodging and weaving as he headed for the row upon row of stacked junkers. Bobby shook his head and smiled to himself sadly. _Should'a seen that comin'_. Kid always _did_ have a good turn of speed, but he was hurt, running wasn't the wisest thing to do with a bullet wound. Still, at least there was a limit to where his boy could run to, especially as he'd already locked the compound gates while Dean thought he was off lookin' for some none existent jar. Bobby began casually strolling in the same direction that Dean had taken. No point wasting energy racing after him, given enough time the kid was likely to lose so much blood he'd not be able to run anymore. Bobby was prepared to wait it out, his ultimate wish being to be right by Dean's side when the end came, right where he should be, as always, still lookin' out for his boy.

-o-

Bobby had been a salvage yard owner for many more years than he had been a Hunter and, like a hillside sliced open to reveal the passage of time within it's strata layers, the stacks of vehicle carcasses bore testament to his business career, from the small collection of wrecks that had signalled the start up of Singer Salvage and on through to the most recently stripped acquisitions. Bobby could take you to the wreck that had been his latest addition to the collection at around the time his wife was used as a meat suit by some daemon, on to the point the stacked rows had increased to by the time he did his first solo hunt, or to the vehicle that had come into his ownership just before he was first introduced to the young Sam and Dean by John Winchester. The row upon row of stacked carcasses were Bobby Singer's diary, he could wander around them blindfolded and _still_ be able to read where he was.

-o-

Bobby didn't blame Dean for having run, the young scallywag used to do the same when it was time to get down to his homework. No, Bobby blamed himself, in part for his own selfishness and, also, for not quite making the shot he'd intended. In harbouring the notion of being able to spend the kid's last moments with him, telling Dean how much he loved him, holding him until he took his last breath, he'd intended to disable Dean with a gut shot, a wound guaranteed to kill if left without treatment, but not straight away, giving Bobby the chance to fulfil his wish. Bobby sensed the other inside, the one who had offered to care for Dean. The one who instructed him. She was irritated, angry at Bobby for his error and... _Hungry?_ Bobby tried to apologise.

"I'm sorry Old One ... I _will_ bring him. Give me another chance Lady. I give you my word I won't fail you ... As you wish Old One. I thank you for the kindness you show me.

-o-

Stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the ever increasing pain in his flank, Dean knew well enough to avoid the futility of running up and down the isles between each row of wrecks. All that would achieve would be to give Bobby some fun taking pot-shots up whichever isle he saw Dean skip-hopping along like a living fairground duck shoot. It was clear that, unfortunately for Dean, Bobby had somehow fallen victim to the Chianti thing. Dean decided his best option was to get back to the house, where there were weapons, his phone, and first aid supplies. He had no intention of killing Bobby, but he needed to be able to defend himself from the possessed man's determination to kill _him,_ and he needed help, like any time soon would be great. The combination of pain, shock and the continued blood loss meant he could feel himself becoming fatigued and, determined though he was in his battle against the pain of both the wound and the inflammatory impact on it from his continuing to move, he wasn't dumb enough to think he'd come out the winner by just sitting around. If he was going to have any hope of defending himself and surviving this, he needed to act on his plan while he was still vaguely capable.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	15. Chapter 15

_Extra long Xmas chapter :)  
_ Chap 15  
-oOo-

Bobby hummed some old Blues number to himself as he came to a halt, glancing from left to right at the rows of piled up vehicles to the front of him. He decided to give Dean the chance to come to _him_ first.

"Hey Son? ... _Dean_? ... I know you c'n hear me shoutin'. All I'm wantin' is to keep you safe Dean, you know? Like you're always tryin' to keep Sammy safe? 'Cept I've got a way I c'n guarentee you'll never be injured, or ill, or hurt _ever again._ Maybe it's not makin' any sense? ... Tell you what, save us both some energy, you step out here, an' I'll explain everythin'. How's that sound? Have we got ourselves a deal?"

-o-

Lying on his back on the ground, hidden beneath the skeleton of an ancient truck, Dean clamped his mouth shut against his own automatic snarky response, denying it it's freedom. He couldn't track Bobby simply by looking at ground level under all the dead vehicles for Bobby's feet as there was no clear line of sight, the vehicle at the bottom of many of the stacks having no tyres to raise the carcass off the ground. On the up side, it also meant Bobby couldn't stare under the rows to identify where Dean might be. Dean could only use Bobby's voice to tell him how near or far away Bobby was and gauge from that whether or not it was safe to move to his next pre-identified spot, so he was happy for his old friend to keep right on talking. Dean forced himself onward, steadily swapping each hiding spot for a new one while ever Bobby continued to try to persuade him to step out in to the open.

"Alright lad, I guess you must want to do this the hard way, so I'm just gonna have to wait it out. Y'know, sometimes you gotta trust it's other folk who know what's best for you. This' one of those times Dean, I wish I didn't have'ta, but I'll let you have it your way for a while longer, then I'll come find you once I figure you've had long enough to black out. See Dean? Even when you don' want it, I'll still do the right thing by you. Matter of fact, what I'm gonna to do here? Makes me a way better dad to you than John Winchester. It was supposed to be _his_ job to keep you an' your brother safe; _not_ knowingly put you both in danger. Little kids being made to do a job most adults'd run squealin' from. Well, enough's enough son. I ain't gonna be the useless failure John was. I'm gonna see this through kiddo."

-o-

Over the years, Dean clashed, disagreed, ignored and argued with Bobby just like he did with about everybody else he knew. But hearing now the words coming out of Bobby's mouth, even if they weren't genuinely his, _Or maybe they were, but till now Bobby's kept_ _it all inside?,_ that moment was the closest Dean had ever stepped in relation to feeling actual hate towards the man. He made use of that sudden surge of strong emotion to begin determinedly moving left, intending to put the shortest possible route across open ground between himself and Bobby's house.

-o-

Breathing heavily, Dean moved his head just enough to peek through the glassless side window of the car where he had managed to fold and squat down in the empty well that had once held the driver's seat. He quickly bobbed his head back when he saw a flaw had developed in his plan. Bobby had just disappeared around the farthest side of the house. Dean closed his eyes in exasperation, knowing that he should have expected Bobby to figure that he would try to get back to there. He used the hem of his tee to wipe at the sweat that was dripping into his eyes while he considered his limited options. Dean stalled in his movement when he realised the whole of the front bottom half of his tee was now stained and wet with blood, as was the top of his jeans. His increase in sweating, and his audible panting breaths now took on a worrying, significance. As if that wasn't bad enough, to reinforce Dean's newly discovered concern, the pain from the gunshot wound that he had worked so hard to ignore suddenly came into sharp relief, as did the headache and nausea he hadn't previously acknowledged in his distraction. Dean visually inspected the entry wound as best he could. What he saw only confirmed the fact that he needed to act. Despite the perspiration, his body had begun to shiver in response to the now constant pain that was countering all his attempts to overcome it.

-o-

Despite repeated attempts, none of Sam's tries at contacting either his brother or Bobby were successful, even though he also tried the numbers for Bobby's Hunter phones. With himself being out in the field, _one_ of them should've picked up when he rang, unless they either couldn't or for some reason, wouldn't, answer. Jodie had, reluctantly, accepted that under the circumstances she shouldn't accompany him back to Bobby's, instead threatening retribution should Sam fail to ring her and let her know what was happening. The Impala growled low like a big cat as it responded to Sam's request for more speed.

-o-

Dean dry swallowed, wishing he had a bottle of water to quench his increasing thirst. With one hand clamped against his wound, he fought to muster up the energy and the will to move; his revised destination being Bobby's own truck. He had all his hopes pinned on Bobby following his regular pattern when he expected to be going back and forth during the day, that of leaving it unlocked and with the key still in it. Although in distance the truck was closer to Dean than it was to the house, it still meant breaking cover. He was relying on having a few seconds grace before Bobby was able to get a clear line on him; it was all he had, and it was better than nothing. Dean guessed that Bobby would either move into position with the intention of killing him before he made it to the truck, or alternatively he would head for the truck himself, expecting to outrun Dean. Dean gave a snort of laughter, right now, in his current state, Dean figured a knock-kneed duck could waddle along and have a very real chance of beating him to the truck! Gritting his teeth, Dean moved carefully across to the passenger side door, pausing to steady his breathing as best he could. With a last look at the distance he had to cover, Dean committed himself to a race for his life.

-o-

After yet another unanswered call, Sam threw his phone onto the front passenger seat in frustration, hearing the _thud_ as it bounced back up off the seat and landed somewhere in the footwell. A swift shuffle and a wriggle while still driving put his gun in his hand He set it down next to him within easy reach. Both hands now on the wheel, Sam gave the car's mirrors a glancing check. Placing his faith entirely in the Impala's ability to respond and perform, Sam rolled his shoulders to loosen them; and determinedly put his foot down, hard. The Impala's powerful engine roared.

-o-

Waiting calmly for his boy to start making his inevitable way back to the house, Bobby thought about the gift the Old One was allowing him to bestow on Dean. If there had been the possibility, he would've liked to be able to keep _both_ his unofficial sons safe. But the Old One had been clear that it's protection could only extend to one, and had then asked Bobby to choose the person he loved most in the world. Bobby had felt uncomfortable in having to differentiate, but in the end it _had_ to be Dean. He wondered if it had been his approach that had put Dean off? Maybe he _should_ have explained why he was doing this? Instead of just going ahead? Maybe he could still talk Dean around? How much easier it would be if he had Dean's co-operation, and that way he'd still have chance to hold Dean as he died, Dean would understand just how much he loved the lad, and Sam would understand when he heard Dean had wanted this precious gift. A flicker of movement caught Bobby's eye, pulling him back from his thoughts.

"Balls!"

-o-

Dean was already on the move, heading towards the truck. Bobby smiled, _That's my boy. Never do what's expected. You young scoundrel!_ Stepping out from the side of his house, Bobby began running for the truck as well, convinced that if he spoke to Dean, Dean would recognise the meaning and value of Bobby's gift, then he would be only too happy to accept it.

-o-

Dean's eyes were on the truck, nothing else mattered, not the pain, not the dizziness, not the increased rate of blood loss, not the heavy aching protest of his weary legs, nor his overriding desire to close his eyes and sleep. Reaching the truck was everything, so much so he didn't notice Bobby join in the race. Within little more than an arms length of reaching the driver's side door, Dean's legs finally gave out, collapsing beneath him and sending him helplessly crashing to the ground. Bobby saw Dean disappear behind the opposite side of the truck, the sight driving him to find the reserves to increase his own speed, then he heard the awful sound of Dean, crying out in agony.

-o-

"Son? C'mon son, open your eyes...Hey lad...You can't die on me yet, you hear? Open those eyes for me...I wanna see your eyes lad...Here, look at me!... _There_ you go! That's better. Here, let me give you a hand to sit up ... I'm sorry kid, I know it hurts...You know, there was no need for all this catch as catch can son, but I get why you took off like you did, I do. It's my own dumb fault.. I shouldn't have gone about things the way I did, an' I'm sorry for that son, truly I am. Listen kid. I want us to start over, ok? Then you'll understand why I've gotta do this, an' you'll know you can still rely on yer ole' pal Bobby. I'm still watchin' out for you, like always. It's just that you're lookin' at things from the wrong shoreline right now...Haven't I only ever wanted what's best for you kid? Always will. An' this? I know it's gotta be hard to believe right now but, trust me son, I never wanted you sufferin' like this, it was supposed to be over for you way quicker...Tell you what I'm gonna do, I'm gonna get you lyin' nice an' comfy indoors, ok? I promise I'll do right by you. Just one more shot's all it'll take for me to put an' end to this hurtin'. I'll aim for your heart, how about that? I swear I won't miss. It'll be nice an' easy on you, an' then son? You'll be safe. _Always_. Ain't nothin' an' no one gonna be able to hurt you ever again kid...Sound good?"

-o-

Propped up in his seated position purely by virtue of Bobby's arm being pressed across his chest, and struggling to keep his gaze from drifting, Dean gave a bitter laugh, which swiftly transformed into a bout of harsh coughing that itself ended in a rolling groan of deeply felt hurt. Finally able to speak, Dean's voice was a barely above a whisper and interspersed with shallow breaths.

"You're talkin' shit...This' bein' safe?... _That's_ the pitch?...You twist this into keepin' people safe?...Stupid cow!...You're not Bobby...You jussa stinkin' pointless parasite...Save y'r crap...Take the...damn shot. Juss...geddit over...pond scum..."

Dean's eyes glazed over, one hand moved weakly and hovered uncertainly above his midriff before dropping bonelessly back to the ground. His eyes finally closed and his head slumped forward. Bobby's expression, previously looking at Dean with concern, now became a blank page as he stared at the younger man, every part of him void of emotion, his attention on the voice within.

"Yes Old One. I understand."

Getting to his feet, Bobby reached down to Dean and grabbed an ankle with each hand. Straightening up again, he began walking backwards towards the house, towing Dean along with him like a sack of waste.

-o-

Sam drifted the heavy Impala round the final bend leading onto the straight uphill road that passed by the entrance to Singer Salvage. Swinging onto the short dirt track that ran into the yard itself, Sam suddenly slammed on the breaks when he saw the double entry gates were both closed, held securely together by a thick chain fastened by a large, heavy duty black padlock. Hurriedly exiting the car, Sam strode up to the gates, hopefully checking the padlock, his hope vanishing on finding it locked. Staring through the metal bars of the gate, in the distance, the figure of Bobby moved into view. Sam frowned when he saw Bobby appear from the front end of the truck, walking backwards out into the open. He was stooped slightly and heaving something along the ground that looked, initially, like a heavy sack of waste. Squinting, Sam fixed on Bobby's burden, and recognised the shape of his brother.

" _Bobby! Hey Bobby_!"

Getting no response to his shouts, Sam ran back to the Impala. Keeping an eye on the figure of Bobby, he reached one arm inside the car and hit the horn. Still Bobby continued to walk backwards. His anxiety levels now rocketing, Sam tried again, this time hitting the horn repeatedly.

" _Shit_!"

Sam's glance flicked between the car, the locked gates, and the length of dirt track he had available to him. Decision made, he threw himself back into the drivers seat and switched the Impala into reverse.

"Sorry Dean, no alternative bro'."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	16. Chapter 16

Chap 16  
-oOo-

Sam quickly reversed the car, backing up as far as he could, putting as much distance as was available between the Impala and the salvage yard gates before coming to a halt. The Impala's engine sat purring, parked at 90 degrees straight across it. Sam could only hope nobody came racing from either direction for the few seconds he needed. Fastening his safety belt Sam clasped the steering wheel with one hand, and softly patted the car's dashboard.

"Ok, listen up. I don't do this much, so you gotta know it's important, an' it's gonna hurt. You'll get fixed up again, but we need to get in there an' save Dean. It's not much of a run up, but please try not to let me down. Ready, here we **_go_**!"

Sam instinctively ducked his head and hunched his shoulders up as the Impala hit the salvage yard gates. There was the sound of the solid, heavy weight car colliding with and then forcibly moving on through the other resistive and protesting heavy duty structure. The breach was announced by a symphonic mêlée of metal against metal, with the percussionist contributing the sound of glass shattering followed by a shower of glass raindrops. Accompanying it all was the throbbing bass and thundering rumble of a powerful engine, and the soprano squeals of ill used rubber tyres. The cacophony of sound drifted around Bobby as though he was hearing them while holding his head under water. The noise was meaningless to him, causing him not so much as the briefest hesitation in his given task and he dragged Dean into the house.

-o-

The Impala careered on beyond the wrecked gateway, finally slewing to a halt directly in front of Bobby's house. Flicking the seatbelt free, Sam reaching into the back seat, grabbing hold of the carrier lying there before leaving the car. He hesitated a little at the sight of the blooded trail leading into the house then, carrier bag in one hand and gun in the other, he quickly moved to the front door. As Sam had hoped, Bobby hadn't stopped to lock or even close the door behind him.

-o-

 _Through Bobby's eyes she stared down at the man lying on the floor. He was a pretty one alright. It didn't matter though, none of those who died by the hands of her chosen hosts mattered to her. Pretty or no, once everything had rotted away, their bones all looked much the same. There had been a time when satisfaction came with the taking of those who were loved, from those that loved them. The incurable heartbreak she left behind was compounded by the use of each host's own hands in the slaughter of their beloved. In the early days she had thrived on that sorrow, drunk it down, revelled in it. Back then she had taken both delight and comfort in the certain knowledge that hers was not the only broken heart. Over the years however, her reasons had changed, narrowed down, become refined._ _for the main part, forgotten. Now, all that motivated her, all she had left, was the satisfaction of forcing her host's to kill, the action itself outweighing_ _the largely forgotten reason._

-o-

Given Bobby's lack of reaction to his loud and unsubtle entry into the yard, Sam felt no compulsion to move silently to try and avoid alerting Bobby to his presence. Instead, he exploded into Bobby's house like some furious wild animal, a guttural roar of rage ripping from his throat as he raced through towards the study on pounding feet, throwing himself into the room with his gun already raised and the safety off, Sam unknowingly mimicked part of Dean's own earlier insult to the thing possessing Bobby.

 _"_ _Back off, pond scum!"_

Standing over Dean, holding his gun aimed at Dean's heart, Bobby's only response was the squeezing of his finger on the trigger.

The noise from two shots being fired was deafening within the confines of the study. The breath being forced out of Dean made a sound like a grunt, as Bobby folded and collapsed heavily on top of the younger man.

-o-

Keeping hold of the gun he knew for certain he had only fired it once, Sam strode across to where Dean and Bobby lay, knowing he had to act quickly. Adrenaline pumping, he easily hauled Bobby off his brother and dragged the older Hunter to an armchair, depositing him in it none too gently. Sam forced himself not to check on Dean, Containing Bobby was the priority right now. Sam stuck his hand in his carrier and pulled out a new tub of salt. He quickly and efficiently drew a circle around the chair in which Bobby was slumped, using up the salt. It wasn't until he was satisfied that the circle was solid that Sam felt he had the space and sufficient focus to figure out where Bobby's shot had gone. Turning from Bobby, his next logical move was to check out his brother. Dean's eyelids were fluttering as if he were fighting to regain consciousness. Moving to his side, Sam knelt down and leaned forward to speak directly into Dean's ear, pausing when he saw black marks surrounding a scorched hole in the rug Dean was lying on, sited a couple of inches away from the side of his brother's head. The fabric of the rug at the hole's edge was slightly warm to Sam's touch. He was horrified at how close Bobby's bullet had come to hitting Dean. His frown became a grimace when Sam touched then spotted the sign of an injury to Dean's flank, and the amount of blood which had seeped from it.

"If you can hear me Dean, it's Sam. You're safe now, I'm here, I'm gonna look after you. I'm sorry bro', but I need to check how bad this is."

-o-

Carefully tearing Dean's tee to reveal the wound, Sam's heart fell further at the early indications that the sight was already becoming infected. He wasn't too surprised really, given the amount of dirt and gravel mixed in with his brother's blood and, from what he could see without having yet cleaned the area, within the entrance to the wound. Given the debris, it was clear to Sam that Dean had collected this wound outside in the yard somewhere.

"Boy. You. Boy."

The sound of the dry, rasping voice sounding like a steel nail being raked over stone sent a shiver the length of Sam's spine and he turned slowly to look over his shoulder at Bobby.

-o-

Bobby was standing rigidly still at the salt circle's inner edge, staring at Sam, his unblinking eyes opened wide. Although Bobby's mouth and lips formed the words, Sam knew there was no way the voice belonged to him. Hot with anger, Sam turned fully around to confront the thing possessing Bobby.

"I know what you are, _Kishanta_. I know what you once were. Wanna know what else I know? It ends here. _You_ end, here. I don't wanna hear you speak again."

Sam held his breath as he actively turned his back on the Kishanta and began to head for the kitchen in search of Bobby's first aid kit.

" _A bargain_. A bargain between us, boy."

Sam halted, answering with his back to the Kishanta.

"You've got nothin' I want."

"This body? It loves you. I will return it."

Keeping his voice calm and unhurried, not wanting to show worry or concern to the Kishanta, Sam again answered without turning, hoping to reinforce to the Kishanta his lack of fear and respect.

"And what would _you_ want?"

"I will enter the other and I will leave this place."

Sam set off walking away again, impatiently tossing his reply over his shoulder.

" _No deal_."

-o-

Hurriedly grabbing Bobby's well stocked first aid kit out of a kitchen cupboard, Sam also filled a plastic bowl with water and snagged a fresh pot drying towel out of a drawer before quickly returning to his brother's side, sparing only a brief glance at the figure of Bobby still standing at the circle's edge, eyes following Sam's movements.

"Set me free boy."

"Ain't gonna happen, might as well sit down till I'm ready to deal with you."

-o-

Sam turned his attention to his brother, dipping the towel into the water and making a start by cleaning away what he could of the dried on blood away from the gunshot wound, all the while watching for any sign of Dean coming round. _Come on bro', keep fightin', give me a sign you know I'm here. Soon as you're ready, next couple of seconds would be good._

"I can make this one hurt himself boy."

This time Sam glared over his shoulder, surprised to see that the Kishanta had done as he suggested and was back on the chair.

"I promise you, it would be a very bad move if you did. Believe me."

Beneath his hands, he felt Dean flinch and he heard a soft, pained sound that instantly drew his attention back to his brother.

"Dean? It's Sam. I got you. You gonna wake up for me? Dean?"

Tired, half opened eyes searched lazily and found him.

"S'm. S'got Bobby."

Sam couldn't help his smile.

"Yeah. I kinda figured that. Listen Dean. You've lost a lot of blood and I need to do something about it, but for now I'm puttin' a pressure dressin' on this wound to stop any more bleedin' while I figure out how to deal with the thing and still keep Bobby safe. I've got them contained in a salt circle."

Dean grimaced and shook his head.

"Don't trust it...Words on laptop...Need to trap it in somethin', like...Like Aladdin. Be quick, it can... _No_!"

-oOo  
Chick xxxx


	17. Chapter 17

_A happy and peaceful New Year to all.  
_ Chap 17  
-oOo-

Sam didn't have to ask, Dean's weak protest was all the signal he needed to grab his shotgun as he twisted himself around to find the Kishanta almost on him. Without hesitating, he shot Bobby in the chest at point blank range, breathing heavily and wincing in sympathy as he watched his friend collapse. One glance at the broken salt circle jogged his memory, and he cursed in annoyance at himself for having overlooked the Kishanta's telekinetic ability which, if not for Dean, could have had disastrous results. Thinking more clearly now Dean had opened his eyes and spoken to him, Sam nodded to himself and turned back to his brother, finding Dean with his eyes closed once more.

"Hey. You still with me bro'? Dean?"

Sam sighed when he confirmed Dean was out of it again. Not knowing how much time he had, Sam quickly finished applying the dressing to Dean's wound, his thoughts on how much easier it was to do the job when the two of them were both on their feet and able to share the load. _Stronger together bro'._

-o-

Reluctantly leaving his brother's side, Sam stood and re-directed his attention back to Bobby and the Kishanta residing in him. Sam's expression was one of grim determination.

"Ok. Let's get this organised properly...Here we go...You ain't gonna be able to mind shove _this_ sucker!"

Grabbing Bobby by the ankles, Sam began to drag him into an area in front of Bobby's desk. Flipping the corner of the rug that was there with one foot, Sam was satisfied to see part of a permanent Devil's Trap painted onto the floor under the rug. Moving as fast as he could, Sam threw the rug to one side then positioned Bobby within the boundaries of the Devil's Trap, managing to achieve the task as Bobby's eyes flickered open and, under the power of the Kishanta, he instantly sat bolt upright and stared around, frowning when the Kishanta within noticed the Devil's Trap. Sam watched in silence as, through Bobby, the Kishanta stood up and walked to the edge of the Devil's Trap, cautiously reaching out. Bobby's hand made contact with the invisible barrier. The Kishanta stared angrily at Sam.

"What is this Boy? Explain!"

Sam smirked.

"Think of it as high security containment. But, if this isn't enough? Then downstairs there's the _maximum_ security option still to go. By now you should be pretty much at the point of realising that you made one _huge_ mistake when you decided to target my friend and my brother."

The Kishanta considered Sam, Bobby's eyes travelling searchingly over him, starting at his feet and moving steadily up to his face.

"How is it you know of these things? What is your kind? Tell me."

Sam stood his ground under the Kishanta's questioning gaze.

"Human...And Hunter. Like my friend and my brother

-o-

Although unhappy at having to prioritise dealing with the Kishanta above caring for his brother, Sam smiled at the Kishanta, advising it not to "go anywhere" and telling it he wouldn't be long. Bobby's lips curled and a snarl came out of him. Sam shrugged and headed back into the kitchen to search for a lidded container and, recalling Jodie telling him about her almost conversation with Bobby when she kept losing the signal, a candle that would fit inside whatever container he unearthed. After rummaging in Bobby's cupboards, he finally resorted to emptying out a spaghetti jar that had a flip lid with a rubber seal. He grabbed a tall, tapered candle from a drawer beneath the sink and, lighting it, he dripped candle wax into the bottom of the jar before blowing the candle out again and standing it upright in the jar, using the dripped wax to hold it. Next he tested whether he could reach the candle wick to light it, and whether the candle went out after he closed the jar's lid. Sure enough, the lit candle quickly devoured the available oxygen sealed within the jar and, to Sam's relief, it's flame was soon snuffed out. His plan, should he need to, for getting Bobby out of the circle once... _If..._ he managed to separate the Kishanta from the older Hunter's body, involved a straight forward snatch and a hurried dragging of the, _hopefully_ , possession free older man to the outside of the Devil's Trap, while managing to leave the Kishanta behind and still firmly contained within it. Sam knew full well that, at that point, he would be entirely reliant on his own timing, and on his speed of movement, needing to get both actions just right.

-o-

The Kishanta was standing in exactly the same spot when Sam re-entered the study and it's attention went straight onto the jar and candle that Sam carried. When the Kishanta and Sam's eyes met, Sam could see the Kishanta had become less certain, less sure of itself, and Sam knew in his heart that he was on the right track, feeling his confidence increase along with his certainty.

"What can I give you that would stay your hand... _Sammy_?"

Sam rolled his eyes.

"See? Right there! You just managed to irritate me even more. My name's _Sam_ to you, _not_ Sammy. Only my brother gets to call me Sammy, and that's only when I let him. And I have to say again, you've got _nothin'_ to offer me. Only thing I want is to end these killings, and so I gotta end _you_. Nothin' personal. It is what it is."

Sam's words clearly had the Kishanta growing more desperate.

"I...I can heal your brother... _Completely._ I would leave this place, there would be no further deaths."

Even with the offer to heal Dean, Sam refused to be swayed.

"Ahh, not _here_ maybe, but you wouldn't stop killing completely. You'd just go on and start up somewhere else. I'd be forced to come after you all over again, an' that's just pointless. Might as well get the job done with right now. I'm sorry your life was shitty in whatever way, I am. But that doesn't give you any right to take other people's lives an' turn those shitty as well. All you're doin' is causin' the suffering you went through to be repeated, time an' time an' time again, for other people. People who don't even know you or know of you. You know, the other way would've been to go about makin' things _better_ for other people who are livin' shitty lives through no fault of their own, makin' sure _less_ people suffer and end up like you did, killing yourself. I guess it's easier to keep the negative pattern goin' an' to be selfish, always tryin' to make _yourself_ feel better, even though it never actually works for you; does it?"

The voice from Bobby became louder and Sam heard the Kishanta's underlying rage in the words being spat out of Bobby's mouth.

"I have my revenge boy. I do have my _revenge_!"

Sam shook his head sadly, answering as he moved to activate his laptop.

"Sorry. No. You don't. If you truly _had_ your revenge, you wouldn't need to continue killing over and over, you would've achieved a sort of peace after the first one. Sad fact is, you'll _never_ feel like you've had your revenge, so you'll always be driven to kill more innocent people. That's why I have to end it for you."

-o-

As he had hoped, the instructions and incantation that could effectively dispel, capture and entrap the Kishanta had been saved, a new icon appearing on the desktop entitled, he assumed by Dean, _Kicking Kishanta Butt_. Sam opened up the page, checked he was linked up to Bobby's old black and white printer, and hit _Print._

-o-

While the printer chugged along noisily, lazily yawning out it's paper copy one unhurried line at a time, Sam set up his impromptu containment kit at the outer edge of the devil's trap, ensuring the jar was stable where he had set it down while studiously ignoring the figure of Bobby moving around the trap's inner edge, pushing and probing at the supernatural barrier as the Kishanta used him to seek out any potential weak spot. Sam smiled grimly up at his old friend.

"You might as well give it up; _this'_ the only way you're gettin' out of there."

"Sammy? It's me lad. This ain't the way son. This ain't gonna work. You gotta listen to me Sammy, I can't hold her back much longer. You do this, an' she'll get free! Sammy? I'm beggin'..."

Sam froze momentarily before quickly getting to his feet at the sound of Bobby's own voice. He stared as Bobby spoke rapidly, his words ending abruptly, like a phone call suddenly being cut off.

"Bobby?"

The familiar features of Bobby Singer had once again adopted a wide-eyed unblinking stare and Sam turned away, finding himself instead looking into the pale, exhausted face and partially opened eyes of his older brother.

"Dean!"

Sam hurried to his brother's side.

"Did you hear that? It was Bobby. I can't do this Dean. I'll be setting the Kishanta free. An', I'm sorry, but I need to get you to hospital bro', you need proper medical care. I can't afford the time to start lookin' for another way to deal with this thing till I've got help for you, but I can't figure a way to get it down into the panic room an' hidden without havin' to hurt Bobby again. I'm needin' help here bro'."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	18. Chapter 18

**Language warning**!  
Chap. 18  
-oOo-

Hearing the rising frustration in Sam's voice, Dean nodded his head and dry swallowed, hoping to recover his voice beyond a strained whisper. He saw Sam mentally kick himself for not having drinking water at the ready and the conflict in his younger brother's eyes as Sam tried to decide whether to risk racing to get some. The cracked sound of Dean's soft voice held Sam back.

"Don' list'n...Carry on."

Sam stared at Dean fearfully.

"But, you heard Bobby's warning. I can't risk it Dean. I _can't_!"

Dean frowned up at Sam.

"S'not Bobby...Juss pond slime talkin..."

"What? What do you mean? How the Hell can you be so certain?"

Dean half smiled as his eyes began to flutter closed again.

"Callin' you _S'my_...Jerk..."

Dean didn't hear Sam's whispered response of _Bitch_.

-o-

While considering his brother's reasoning, Sam again checked Dean's wound, pleased when there were no signs of further blood loss. The fact that Bobby had called him _Sammy_ three times within just a few, brief, sentences didn't amount to any absolutes in Sam's mind. However, he had followed Dean's Hunting instincts over the years on way less evidence than what some fugly called him, why choose to ignore those same instincts now? Sam looked back over his shoulder at Bobby, and shivered briefly at the hunger burning within his eyes, as the Kishanta kept Bobby's stare fixed entirely on the Hunter. Sam turned away, calming his sudden chill by focusing on Dean's familiar features. Win or lose, Dean's guidance was what he had and so, as he had so many times in the past, Sam willingly placed all his faith in his big brother.

-o-

Even before he turned back to face the waiting Kishanta, Sam's fury at the creature's attempt to pretend to be Bobby and so throwing him into a state of uncertainty had flared white hot. His anger reflected in his expression and in the icy cold of his eyes as he glared at the possessed figure of Bobby. Sam strode to the edge of the Devil's trap, positioning himself face to face with the Kishanta, making no comment when the Kishanta took an uncertain step backwards. When Sam did speak, the intensity of his anger reached out through his voice, his words forming as little more than a growl.

" _It's time_."

-o-

Striding across to the printer, Sam snatched the sheet it had spewed out with a jerky, angry movement. Returning to stand by his glass container, with purposeful movements, he extracting a box of matches from a pocket, holding the box in the flat of his palm, ensuring the Kishanta had a clear view of it and could not mistake his intent. Imprisoned by the power of the Devil's trap, the figure of Bobby suddenly went crazy. Under the control of the Kishanta, Bobby began bodily throwing himself at the invisible barrier stopping him from moving outside the field of the trap, his face twisted and snarling, spittle flying off his lips as the Kishanta threw vile words and curses at Sam that Sam had never previously heard come out of Bobby's mouth and which, in reality, he knew Bobby himself would never utter towards Sam. The bitter tirade continued to spew from Bobby's lips while Sam skimmed through the words printed on the paper, getting a sense of the incantation and the process he needed to follow before he began repeating the words out loud.

" _You cocksucking piece o' shit. Punk prick. I'm gonna rip you apart, you pile o' puke. I'll tear your brother's head off his shoulders in front of you. I'll make you choke on your own balls. You low life bastard, I'm gonna eat your tongue you fuckin'_ _asswipe, you screw up! How dare you? Stop, or I'll suck out your retard brains. You don't get to reject me again, you dickless cu... "_

-o-

Continuing to ignore the fury being directed towards him, Sam calmly struck a match and bent down to light the candle which stood, securely fixed, inside the glass jar. His voice firm and strong, Sam gazed again at the print out he held, and began to read aloud the words designed to banish and hold the Kishanta.

"Kishanta, Child of Sorrow, listen well.  
I stand before you as a servant of Agni, Protector and God of fire.

In His name, you will trouble no more the one you coil within.  
In His name, you will depart from the one you crouch within.

By the light of sun, moon, stars and flame, I claim power over you  
By this, the fire of Agni, I summon and command you.

In His name, I expel you from the host and summon you now to His fire.  
In His name, I command you leave the host and come now to His fire."

-o-

Inside the Devil's trap, the Kishanta's own voice began to scream and howl through Bobby, it's pitch increasing painfully as Sam repeated the first section of the banishing incantation, readying himself to haul Bobby out of the area of the trap if necessary. Wisps of black smoke began to emanate from Bobby's mouth and nose, coiling around his head, quickly growing thicker, almost hiding Bobby's face completely from Sam. As he began the required third reading of the first section of the incantation, Bobby grew quieter until, finally, he stood in silence, his mouth open wide, as the smoky form of the Kishanta now billowed out of him and began streaming towards and then into the waiting jar. As the last of the daemon's smoky form left his body and curled itself into the spaghetti jar, Bobby folded and collapsed, his upper half hitting the floor outside the trap's boundaries.

-o-

Without missing a beat, Sam knelt and swiftly slammed the jar's lid into place, flicking the metal clip which secured the lid into position at the same time as, his voice clear and steady, he began to say out loud the second, and last, part of the incantation.

"I seal this vessel in the name of Agni, Protector and God of fire.  
In His name, I seal this vessel and return to Him this fire.

Kishanta, Child of Sorrow, as this His flame extinguishes, so shall your power.  
May Agni, Protector and God of fire, keep you hidden, never to be released."

Sam stopped reading and waited for the flickering candle to use up the oxygen available to it within the tightly sealed jar. He watched in silence as the candle's flame began to flutter unsteadily, then gradually grow smaller, weaker. The dark smoke inside turned to pale grey and then rapidly faded further. Running out of oxygen within in the jar to support it, the candle's flame snuffed out and with it, any sign of the daemon's ethereal form. Sam bowed his head in relief and released the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. He'd done it, the Kishanta was trapped and contained.

"Wow! _That's_ not somethin' you see everyday. I'm impressed...Absolutely _terrified_ , but still very impressed."

-o-

Startled, Sam's heart skipped a beat at the sound of the voice behind him, and he spun around, still on his knees.

" _Liz_! What the...? How long have you been standin' there? _Why're_ you standin' there?"

Liz did that thing where she cocked her head on one side.

"Cos there's no way I was comin' any closer?"

-o-

Sam's laughter was, to an extent, born out of his relief. Still smiling, he nodded his head towards the gun in Liz's hand.

"That wouldn't have stopped it you know."

Liz glanced over to where Bobby was groaning and beginning to stir.

"Not the wossitt maybe. But it sure would've stopped _him_ if he'd attacked. Plus, I've got backup."

Liz produced another gun from where it was hidden under her jacket.

"Salt rounds apparently, from Sheriff Mills...Paramedics are on route, thought I'd mention it in case you want to hide anythin' before they arrive? I'm amazed this cute guy, your brother?, is still hanging in there. I'm sorry, but he desperately needs proper medical care Sam."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	19. Chapter 19

Chap 19  
-oOo-

Climbing to his feet, Sam cast a worried glance at the still figure of his brother.

"It's ok, I'm glad you made the call. My brother's a fighter, and unbelievably stubborn, and sometimes that's enough. Most often we manage to get one another through, but not when it's this bad...If I loose him Liz...An' Bobby? I don't know what he'd...How he'd..."

Sam's voice faltered, unable to complete his sentence and voice the unthinkable. Adrenaline levels dropping back down to normal made room for the fatigue and his fear of losing Dean. Liz saw Sam's shoulder's slump as the energy seemed to drain out of him. Moving closer, she wrapped an arm loosely around Sam's waist.

"Sam, don't. Don't think that way. You've got to stay positive, for Dean. Go sit with him, talk to him. Help him.. Go on. I'll look after Bobby."

-o-

Squatting down beside Bobby, Liz shuddered briefly, trying to imagine how it might be to be completely under the control of some unnatural _thing_ squatting inside, wondering whether people kept any sense of what was happening during the period when they were _taken over_? She hoped the day would never come when she experienced anything like it first hand. Aware the man in front of her _Didn't he used_ _to be the town drunk?_ would probably, like the others, have no memory of the recent events, she readied herself in case he came round fighting. Keeping her voice calm, she reached out and shook his shoulder.

-o-

"Mr Singer? Can you hear me Mr Singer? I need you to open your eyes for me...Bobby?...C'mon honey. Don't keep a lady waitin'...There you go!...That's better. Hello Mr Singer. Don't try to get up yet. My name's Liz, I'm with the sheriff's department."

Bobby blinked up at the vaguely familiar female face in confusion, his eyes glancing at her uniform before he turned his head, trying to get a sense of where he was. Liz responded to his unasked question.

"You're at your home Mr Singer, at the salvage yard. Sam and his brother are both here. Can you tell me what you remember sir?"

Bobby frowned up at the woman as he tried to gather his thoughts. Liz saw in his face the moment when Bobby recalled what he had been doing and why, and suddenly he was grabbing onto her arm.

"Help me up. Where's Dean? Is he ok? Sam? _Sam_?"

"I'm here Bobby, calm down, you're fine."

"Whoa! Slow down there Mr Singer! Are you _really_ sure you should be tryin' to stand right now? Are you hurt anywhere at all?"

Bobby wavered unsteadily and Liz quickly grabbed hold of him, helping him the rest of the way onto his feet, relieved to hear the distant sound of a siren.

"Sir, you need to calm down, everything's under control...Um, I mean..."

Shrugging Liz off, Bobby paled when he saw Sam kneeling by the still form of his brother.

"Oh... _Balls_! **_No_**! Sam, talk to me! What've I done? The bitch had me, didn't she?"

Liz tried to get Bobby to stand still, tried to reassure him.

" _Please_ Mr Singer, calm down. Hear those sirens? Para's are already on their way, an' the Kinchunti thingy's gone. Sam dealt with it..."

Bobby glared at her pointedly.

"Please. Step aside ma'am. I need to see my boy. Once I know whether he's ok, _then_ you can get on an' charge me, with pleasure."

Now on his feet, Sam swiftly moved to intercept Bobby, using his own body to block Dean from the older man's view.

"Bobby. Stop! Listen. Liz isn't here to arrest you, ok? Jodie sent her to help. An' yeah, the Kishanta got to you, an' Dean's hurt. But you gotta remember, it's the Kishanta that's to blame, _not_ you!"

The sound of the siren sound grew closer as Bobby stared up at the younger Hunter currently blocking his way. His voice barely above a whisper, Bobby still managed to project a note of caution, a warning to Sam to step aside.

"Out my way Sam. I want to see Dean."

-o-

Sam hesitated for less than a fraction of a second before bowing his head and moving to one side, allowing Bobby to shove hurriedly past him. Moving to stand alongside Sam, Liz curled her arm through his and he turned to look at her gratefully.

"I'm gonna go meet the paramedics Sam an' direct them in here. Ok? You might want to cover up the kooky floor art. I'll be goin' with them, when they move Dean, show the hospital staff the sheriff's department's already involved, you know, 'cos of the gunshot wound? I suggest you tag on behind me an' the ambulance, keep up an' stay close; I don't think we'll be stoppin' for any red lights. Ok?"

Sam nodded his understanding.

"Thanks Liz, for doing this; and for agreeing to drive out here in the first place."

"Oh don't you worry, there's a cost for all this Sam _Winchester._ At some point, you're gonna explain to me exactly what went off here an' what I was seein'. Am I alright to ring Jodie once I've dealt with the para's...Do you think it's safe to talk to her now?"

Sam nodded again.

"Yeah. Now the Kishanta's been isolated, it can't get to anybody. At some point it'll need dealing with, and hiding someplace where it'll hopefully never be found and opened again."

"Good. Sounds like the ambulance's pullin' into the yard, I'll go meet them, get that rug put back, ok?"

"Ok."

-o-

Liz hurried off while Sam quickly covered the Devil's trap and put the jar containing the Kishanta in one of Bobby's desk drawers before returning to squat down alongside his brother, opposite Bobby who was gently stroking the side of Dean's face with the back of his hand and murmuring repeated apologies to the younger Hunter. Sam could see Deans eyes moving under the lids, as if his brother was dreaming, or maybe reacting to the sound of Bobby's voice? Sam reached across his prone brother to place a hand on Bobby's shoulder.

"Bobby? How're you doing?"

Bobby still looked pale and tears stood in his eyes. Answering Sam, he didn't take his eyes off Dean.

"Gotta admit, I've been better lad. I've no memory beyond very briefly talkin' to Jodie over the phone, but I ain't sure what about. An' then, at some point, with some revenge driven bitch ridin' my ass, I did this to Dean..."

At the mention of his name, Dean's head turned slightly in Bobby's direction and his lips moved momentarily, as if Dean was trying to speak. Bobby leaned down until his head was close to Dean's ear.

"I'm sorry lad, real sorry. I should'a been stronger, had more self control instead'a lettin' myself be a puppet for that Kishanta bitch...

Sam's voice cut in.

" _Stop it_ Bobby. You were _possessed_ for craps' sake! You weren't given any choice! The thing got to you through Jodie and it took over, no _way're_ you responsible. Am I makin' myself clear yet?"

Kneeling upright again, Bobby turned to Sam, frowning.

"Jodie?... _She_ was the link tyin' everybody together?... _Balls._..Of _course_ she was. An' if I'd figured that out myself earlier on, this could'a been avoided. I'm so sorry son, sorry I didn't see the connection. If I had...

The three paramedics hurrying into the study curtailed Bobby's self blame, as both he and Sam moved aside in order to give them access to Dean. One glanced up over his shoulder at Sam.

"Cop said patient's name's Dean, right?"

"Right."

"Any other wounds?"

"No, no others."

"Lost a lotta blood...Was there a delay in callin' us?"

Sam glanced at Bobby as he answered.

"The call was made as soon as we found him."

"I see. Any allergies to drugs you know of? Anybody know his blood type?

-o-

Liz stood quietly alongside the anxious and distressed Bobby whilst the paramedics worked, an IV line quickly being established and a bag of saline attached in order to get fluids into Dean as an initial counter to the blood loss. Sam answered the questions fired at him, all the while studying his brother's too pale face, looking for any sign of Dean coming around. At some point, Liz took hold of Bobby's hand, and he automatically laced his fingers between hers, the tension and worry in the older Hunter being transferred into how tightly he gripped and held on to her hand with his own. At last the paramedic's felt their patient was as stable as they could manage and readied him to be transported to the hospital. When they moved Dean into the back of the ambulance, the driver was already in communication with the hospital staff.

-o-

Following the paramedics outside, Sam paused to gaze at the Impala. Liz followed his line of sight, and raised one eyebrow, taking in the state of the classic car.

"Bloody Hell! Ok. Maybe the both of you should ride with me?"

Sam glanced around for Bobby, seeing him motionless, standing on his front porch looking dazed and lost.

"Thanks Liz, give me a sec. will you?"

Liz too glanced over to Bobby, and nodded.

"Sure. I'll tell the ambulance to go and I'll wait in the car for you."

-o-

Bobby's eyes followed the ambulance as it moved off towards the wrecked gates of the salvage yard.

"Bobby? Liz's waiting for us."

Still staring in the direction the ambulance had taken, Bobby shook his head before turning to Sam.

"You go ahead lad, be with your brother...I reckon he won't be so happy to see _me_ sat by his bed if... _When_ he comes round. I figure it's best if I keep away. Maybe I'll start work on the car? Have it ready for when he's discharged."

Sam took a deep breath, and moved himself to stand directly in front of the older Hunter.

" _When_ my brother wakes up, first thing he's gonna see is his family. That's me an' you Bobby. Now, you can either walk to the car, or so help me, I'll throw you over my shoulder an' carry you there! What's it gonna be old man?"

Bobby stared up at Sam in shock, seeing the determined expression on his face.

"You wouldn't?"

"Try me."

Bobby's eyes narrowed.

"Fine. I'll go...But don't you go thinkin' this means I couldn't a' stopped you an' taken you down, boy."

Stepping to one side, Sam smiled affectionately at the disgruntled man.

"As if I would ever _dare_ think that."

Bobby _humphed_ as he strode past Sam to where Liz sat in her car waiting for them.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	20. Chapter 20

Chap 20  
 _(Next to last chapter people)  
_ -oOo-

It was always the waiting. Specifically, the waiting and the not knowing that was the worst. Somewhere within the bowels of the hospital, a team of staff were surrounding his brother, cutting, swabbing, searching, and stitching while Dean laid helpless and vulnerable. His survival resting in the skills and hands of the group of strangers all around him, and Sam had no way of overseeing what those strangers did, or of ensuring they treat his brother with respect while he lie helpless on the operating table. These were the times when, truly, neither brother had any control over their own destiny. These, more than any other, were the times when Sam prayed.

-o-

Despite Sam's reassurances, and his own mind telling him none of this was his fault, Bobby still felt a gnawing guilt. He thought back to his own words to Dean after the death of Barry Farrell, and felt slightly hypocritical. Here he was, blaming himself, when he had so recently lectured Dean against doing just that. Bobby knew there was only one thing that would bring him peace of mind, and that was to know Dean himself didn't hold Bobby responsible. He needed his boy's forgiveness, before he would ever begin to forgive himself. Bobby's greatest wish though, was for Dean to survive this, and to be well, whether or not he held Bobby responsible. If his boy recovered, that would be enough for Bobby, anything after that was secondary. He glanced at his watch, and sighed. Only two minutes had passed since he last looked at it. He had to move, do something to help time pass and to ease his frustration at not knowing what was happening with Dean.

-o-

"Sam? I'm gonna take a walk to the canteen, get us all a coffee. You want a sandwich bringin' back or somethin'?"

Sam shook his head no.

"Coffee's fine thanks, Oh, an' a cold drink? Orange juice or somethin'. Don't think I'd keep any kinda food down right now."

Bobby nodded his understanding.

"Gotcha. Coffee an' juice."

-o-

Bobby began to walk away, then paused. Turning, he gazed at the sight of Sam, bent forward from the waist, elbows on his knees and his hands, fingers laced, providing a resting point for his forehead. His long brown hair formed a curtain, behind which hid the younger Hunter's profile. Bobby's heart went out to Sam. He'd seen the results of Sam losing his brother previously. It wasn't good. Not good at all. Bobby straightened his stance and made himself a silent vow. If, Heaven forbid, Dean didn't make it, he would devote all his energies into stopping Sam going off the rails this time. He would stick with the kid, support him, back him up; and he wouldn't take no for an answer. He decided right then that, if necessary, he would devote the rest of his life to taking care of Sam. He owed it to Dean. Unconsciously, he pulled his shoulders back, held his head higher and straightened his stance from it's previous hunched posture of defeat.

"Hey, son?"

Sam looked up with a start, surprised Bobby was still there.

"If they come get you, leave word at reception where you are, ok?"

"Ok."

"I'm gonna bring you a sandwich anyway. Like it or not, you need to eat kid, even if you only have half. You'll need your strength to look after that brother of yours when we get him home...An' we _will_ get him home. You hear me?"

Sam gave Bobby a small smile, no idea why he appeared to be suddenly imbued with renewed determination, but glad of it none-the-less.

"I hear you, sir."

-o-

The canteen was fairly busy with hospital staff trying to queue, grab and eat a meal at a rate _not_ guaranteed to end in heartburn or indigestion within their allotted half hour meal break. It appeared that sandwiches were deemed to hit the staff's criteria, leaving a limited range to choose from. Grabbing cheese salad for Sam and plain cheese for himself, Bobby managed to snag the last bottle of fresh orange before joining the queue for coffee. A group of five health care assistants in front of him chatted happily to each other about an upcoming night out. Two male junior medical staff standing behind Bobby bemoaned the attitude towards them of one of the ward sisters, agreeing with each other that, as a nurse, she should show respect towards them and their more superior role. Bobby paid no heed to either party, the medic's arrogance and the care assistant's plans holding no interest for him. Accepting his three coffee's to go, he handed over the correct money and strode purposefully out of the canteen, not wanting to leave the younger Hunter on his own for too long. Rounding the final corner, Bobby couldn't help but be somewhat disappointed to see Sam still sitting right where he had left him and pretty much in the same position, signifying that, in all likelihood, there was still no news about Dean.

"No word yet?"

Sam sat back on the hard plastic chair with a sigh.

"Nothing. You don't think they've forgotten we're here, do you?"

"I'm sure they haven't, but I'll go remind them at the reception desk if you want?"

Footsteps heading their way curtailed Sam's answer, and both men looked hopefully towards the sound. Liz stalled when she found herself being stared at by both Sam and Bobby.

"Um...Wha'd I do? Or, what _didn't_ I do?"

Bobby held out a carton of coffee and smiled.

"Here you go lass. Don't know how you take it, so I got it black."

-o-

Liz held open the door to a small relative's room.

"I had to agree we'd vacate it if they needed it in the event of, you know, a bereavement. It's not huge, but it's a more comfortable and look, there's stuff to make a hot drink."

Sam glanced around, the room was a study in bland, pale tones of beige and greens throughout, used both on the walls and in the furnishings, even down to the one framed picture hung in the room, showing a single cream rose. There was nothing to draw the eye, nothing to fix on, it was a room where you could sit and fade away, waiting.

-o-

Bobby and Sam sat in silence while Liz took her coffee to the small drinks station. Opening up a couple of sachet's of powdered milk, she poured them into her coffee. Sam nudged Bobby and nodded his head in Liz's direction. The two men watched in amusement as she attempted to persuade the newly formed globules of milky coloured paste floating unappealingly around on the top of her coffee, to actually mix into it. She had one side of her top lip curled up in distaste while she poked, prodded and stirred at the resolute surface hugging clumps of goo, desperately trying to persuade them to break down and melt. Finally, with a glare at what now looked like thoroughly curdled milk swirling serenely around on the top of her drink, Liz sniffed at it suspiciously, shrugged, and swallowed a mouthful, grimacing and shuddering at the bitter and slightly fusty taste. Giving up, she poured the contents of the carton away, into the small metal hand washing sink, and turned in time to realise she was being watched again.

" _Now_ what? Will the pair of you quit starin' at me like that? Otherwise I might have'ta poke you _both_ in the eye!"

Sam's impulsive response surprised both Bobby and himself .

"Liz, when everything's back to normal, would you like to go out sometime?...For coffee, or something?"

On the inside, Liz was punching the air in celebration and sending a silent message to Dean, _You'd better pull through honey, or else!_ Externally, she gazed at Sam as though having to think about the question before she finally answered in a solemn tone.

"Only if you promise I can have my coffee white."

Bobby's eyes flicked from Sam to Liz and back.

"Do you two need me to leave you alone for a while?"

-o-

Sitting in one of the relatively comfortable chairs, Liz happily had a slug of the juice she had wheedled off of Sam.

"After I'd wrangled access to this room, I spoke to the...To Jodie. She's gonna call in later but asks we keep her updated till then. She's busy trying to pull somethin' together based on the premise of everyone, includin' you Bobby, coming under the influence of some crazed hypnotist, who escaped when you Sam, confronted him at Bobby's place. There'll be some vague, unhelpful description put out and hopefully, given time, the case will end up buried in the archives. She said she knows it doesn't bring Barry an' the others back, but it clears their names at least. Skye and Elliot will be goin' home together. Have'ta say, I don't envy Jodie the paperwork!...Actually, she told me it's not the first time she's had to concoct something like this?"

Sam glanced at Bobby, who gave a slight nod. Clearing his throat, Sam, helped by Bobby, began to disclose to Liz the truths that would lead to the building of a close friendship between her and Jodie, and which were also destined to sometimes keep Liz awake at night. In the midst of Liz's numerous questions, there was a knock at the door, and Dean's surgeon walked into the room, seeming to fill it with his presence.

-o-

Where before it had been washed out and bland, the relatives room suddenly seemed sunny and bright to Sam when the surgeon gave them the news that Dean had survived the operation and was currently in recovery, with hopes being high that he was set to pull through. So much so that, whilst he was going to be transferred to high dependency care for twenty four hours, he _didn't_ need to the services of the Intensive Care Unit. The surgeon had left the room smiling to himself at the broad grins that had been plastered on the faces of his patient's brother and uncle, their heartfelt thanks ringing in his ears. Liz beamed as she watched Sam and Bobby hug one another in relief, her smile growing even wider when she found herself being dragged upright and pulled into the hug by the two men. While Sam and Bobby sat waiting for word that Dean was on the ward and that they could go to him, Liz decided it was time to take her leave. Sam offered to walk with her to the hospital entrance.

"So, where are you heading from here?"

Liz shrugged.

"My shift ended some time ago, but I'm gonna check if Jodie's still at the station. If she is, I'll head over there, see if I can lend a hand with anythin'. I've got her gun to return anyway."

Once at the entrance, Sam became hesitant, staring at his feet.

"Sam? You ok?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm good...I, um...What I asked earlier, about goin' for a drink...?"

Liz feigned sadness.

"Don't tell me...You've come to your senses an' now you don't wanna take me out after all?"

Sam shook his head vigorously

"Yes! I mean, no! Jeeze woman, stop confusing me! _Yes_ I _still_ want to take you out, I was just goin' to say that I'll ring you at work, soon as I get sick of Dean's whining about being in hospital. Believe me, it'll not take long for it to get to me!"

Sam grinned down at Liz and, for the first time, she noticed his dimples. _No fair!_ _Look at that, he's so adorable! As_ _ **well**_ _as bein' so damn hot! Lucky, lucky me!...In your face Officer Tobinn, you've missed out for once. An' getta load'a_ _ **what**_ _you've missed! I'm feelin' the need to shop."_

-o-

The first thing Dean's senses became aware of, was the low rumble of a train, and it sounded worryingly close by. He forced open one eyelid, and for one horrible moment, the dim light levels persuaded him that he was lying in a tunnel. Snapping open his other eyelid, Dean turned his head to the sound of the on-coming train, and frowned in his anaesthesia and drug induced confusion at the sight of Bobby, arms folded across his chest and with his head tipped forward in sleep. He watched as Bobby breathed in through his nose, helping Dean to identify the source of the train's rumble as nothing more life threatening than Bobby's snoring. Satisfied, Dean's gaze lazily moved to the figure sitting alongside Bobby, and recognised the shape of his brother. Sam was also sleeping contentedly, the sound of his soft snoring beaten into submission by Bobby's volume. Dean's cotton ball stuffed head tangled with the math. Sam and Bobby, sitting side by side, plus himself in bed, equalled? Dean's gaze switched to the ceiling, drifted over the top half of the walls and finally came to rest on the half empty bag of blood hanging almost over his head. _Equals hospital._ _Got that one._ Dean's next task was harder. _Why hospital? Hurt I guess. How?_ His eyes were drawn back to Bobby, his concentration disturbed by the door to his room opening, letting in more light and another person. Dean watched carefully while the newcomer made their way to the side of his bed not occupied by Sam and Bobby and leaned over to look down at him.

-o-

"Hey slugger. How you feelin'?"

The newcomer's voice was kept just above a whisper. Dean blinked slowly, and gave Jodie a lop sided smile.

"Peepsly."

Jodie grinned, taking in the hazy half asleep way Dean was gazing back up at her.

"Sleepy, huh? Does anyone know you've woken up?"

Dean's soft smile grew wider and more lopsided.

"Yup...You."

Jodie rolled her eyes, working hard not to give into the temptation to stroke Dean's cheek like he was a little kid.

"Oh boy. Do the nurses know you're awake?"

Dean's smile disappeared, his eyebrows scrunching towards one another as he thought through Jodie's question. Eventually his drug laden smile blossomed again.

"You c'n tellum."

A third low volume voice joined in.

"Jodie? Hi. Have you been here long?"

"Hi Sam. Just got here. Your big brother's awake. Word of warning though...I think they did a full lobotomy while he was under. Get a load of this big dumb smile!"

As Sam stood and moved up to the bed rail, Bobby's voice finally joined the whispering ensemble.

"Is he awake?"

Jodie answered him before moving to the door, Dean's gaze tracking her sadly as she exited to go find a member of the ward staff.

"Sorta."

-o-

Cupping his older brother's cheek, Sam turned Dean's head to look at him.

"Hey there bro'. How you feelin'?"

Dean's half aware expression instantly changed from sad back to happy again.

"S'my!"

Sam grinned, looking to Bobby when the older man moved to stand at his side.

"Every time he's like this I promise myself that the next time he's floating on anaesthesia backed up by IV Morphine, I'm gonna record it and play it back to him once he's ok. Never do though, haven't got the heart for it. He'd hate seeing how soppy he can get."

Dean stuck out his bottom lip.

"M'not soppy. _You_ soppy. Lo Bobby. M'in 'osppittle"

Bobby gazed down on the man who meant so much to him and who's life he had so nearly ended.

"That you are son."

Dean blinked heavily and tilted his head on the pillow, trying to focus more clearly on the older Hunter's face

"Why you cryin' Bobby?"

"Because I'm so glad you're ok son."

Dean's slightly wonky smile bloomed once more.

"Me too!"

-o-

The door to Dean's room opened and one of the ward staff entered, followed by Jodie. The plump, grey haired nurse stopped to increase the light levels, turning towards Dean in time to be blessed with a full frontal view of her patient's gaping yawn.

"I see you still have your tonsils then young man. Now, let's have a look at how the rest of you is doing."

Grinning, the nurse efficiently ushered everyone out of the room in order to tend to her newly awoken patient before he had no option but to give in again to the pull of the drugs floating around in his system.

-oOo-  
 ** _Final chapter and epilogue coming your way soon. Chick xxx_**


	21. Chapter 21

_Another fic comes to a close, I hope people enjoyed it.  
_ _See Author's note at the end if you want a vote on the next fic :)  
_ Chap 21 & Epilogue  
-oOo-

It took a little over 48 hours for the residual anaesthesia and it's effects to wear off, at which point Dean was attached to a pump which allowed him to self administer a limited dose of Morphine when he felt he needed it. Dean being Dean, he promptly ignored the machine until those times when he scored himself at twelve on the zero to ten pain rating scale used as a reference by himself and Sam. After the first day, Sam was onto his brother's game and, on one occasion, Dean's nurse on the general ward he'd been transferred to, a shy and diminutive Asian lady, walked in on Sam struggling to reach and press the machine's button in order to administer a dose of morphine that Dean denied needing while Dean, groaning loudly in pain, was trying to cover the machine with his upper body and fend off Sam's hands.. The nurse stared, screamed, and swiftly departed, only to return not five minutes later with a Consultant in tow, who she ordered in no uncertain terms to "sort out the two mad men."

-o-

Once Dean was no longer loopy with anaesthetic, he was able to relay to Sam and Bobby what had occurred from around the time he estimated the Kishanta had moved into Bobby. However, there were some things that Dean intentionally omitted, such as the fact that Bobby had meant his first shot to wound, not kill. Dean saw no reason to increase Bobby's personal distress by disclosing the deliberate action was taken because of Bobby's own wish to be with him as he died from a second, fatal, shot. Neither would Dean ever share Bobby's stating that Dean was his favourite. Instead, he teased Bobby about missing, telling him that his eyesight must be failing in line with his age increasing. While Dean was busy tormenting Bobby, Sam's phone rang and, after checking the caller ID, he mysteriously excused himself, leaving the room to take the call. Dean immediately stared intently at Bobby.

"What's that all about? Why didn't he take the call in here like always?"

Bobby shrugged his shoulders.

"How would _I_ know? Maybe he just wants some privacy?"

Dean's eyes narrowed and he shook his head.

"Nah. You're expression's blank. That's a sure sign you know somethin'. Talk old man. What's my baby brother up to?"

"How about you try askin' _him,_ seein' as you're so nosey?"

"Fine. I will."

-o-

Dean crossed his arms and sat staring at the door in silence, waiting for his brother's return. Bobby took a deep breath before speaking.

"Son, while it's just us, I...I want you to know, I'll never forgive myself for hurtin' you. Sorry don't begin to cover it, not even close an'...An' after what I did to you?...I'll understand if you don' wanna be around me or stay in touch once you're out of here...

"Bobby? Can it. Don't have to forgive yourself, _you_ didn't do anythin'; an' you're disturbin' my staring face with your prattle."

Bobby hitched his eyebrows.

"My _what_?"

Dean maintained his focus on the door to his room.

" _Prattle_. The victim's came in pairs, remember? That's you an' me Bobby, _both_ of us. You're as much a victim as me so be angry, be pissed off. Whatever, just _don't_ get all guilt ridden, 'cos it wasn't you. Now drop it, alright?"

Bobby stared at Dean's profile aghast.

"I _don't_ prattle!"

-o-

Opening the door, Sam took one step back into the room, and stalled in the face of his brother's fixed glare. Sam glanced towards Bobby for help, but the older Hunter hurriedly took cover inside a horticultural magazine.

"Well?"

Sam looked at his brother in genuine confusion.

" _Well_ what?"

"Who called?"

Sam smiled inwardly.

"Ah, I see. You're bein' nosy. It was a friend."

Dean feigned surprise.

"You got friends now?"

"Yup, and we're going out for a drink together tonight."

Dean's face lit up instantly.

"You mean I'm gettin' outta here today? _Awesome_! Where's my clothes? Which friend are we meetin' up with? Where're we meetin' 'em? Bobby, put that crap down will you an' find me my pants. I ain't goin' home in PJ bottoms."

Bobby stood up and headed towards the door, giving Sam a brief smirk in passing.

"I'm just gonna get me some air. I'll leave you to talk to your brother Sam."

Dean called out after Bobby's retreating back.

"But, what about my pants?"

There was no reply from Bobby as the door closed behind him. Sam sighed as he gazed at his expectant brother.

"Do _you_ know where my...

" _Dean_ , bro'... You're not gonna be discharged today, or even tomorrow."

Frowning, Dean stuck one finger in an ear and wiggled it around

"What?...Say again? I'm pretty sure I must've miss-heard you...Sammy? Where you goin'?... _Sammy_!"

-oOo-

 **Epilogue  
** -oOo-

On the day of the joint funeral of Barry Farrell and Julia Cole, the skies were overcast and a fine drizzle of rain fell throughout the day. Glancing up at the sky as the crowd of mourners set off to follow the Priest and the two coffins through the cemetery, slowly making their way to the double burial plot, it seemed appropriate to Bobby that it should be raining, a reflection of the combined sadness between the two families. He briefly spotted Betsy Myers, being supported by Jean. The sprightly old woman he had previously met was gone, replaced by someone who appeared too frail and fragile to be the same person who had looked him up and down with distain before announcing _This ain't no truck_ _stop_ when she opened the Cole's front door to him. Jean Cole turned and caught Bobby's eye before taking her seat beside the open grave, on her lap she balanced a metal box. She gave Bobby a small smile, mouthing _Thank you_ to him before turning away again.

-o-

Even to Bobby, the service itself, whilst typical of such things, still felt too short to stand as the final goodbye to the tragic young couple. Afterwards, as the two families and the gathered mourners finally walked away, Bobby stayed behind, hands in pockets as he stood under a small grouping of five trees, trying to shelter from the rain while he silently watched three men begin to solemnly shovel soil over the two coffins and the much smaller metal box, engraved all over with odd symbols and patterns and which Mrs Cole had carefully placed on top of her daughter's coffin, intending for it to be buried along with Julia and Barry. Gazing at his handy work, Bobby muttered under his breath, _May you never be discovered and set free, ever again...Bitch!_ At last he turned away and, pulling up the collar of his dark coat he began the steady walk back to his car, ready to drive home and prepare for the homecoming of his two unofficially adopted sons later that day.

-o-

Jodie sat alone on her sofa at home, her third tumbler of whisky clasped between both hands as she stared off into space. The funeral service earlier that day had been a difficult and distressing one for her. Dark circles around both her eyes spoke of disturbed nights and little sleep. She had an appointment booked for the following day and she stared at the design she had sketched out on the back of an envelope. The simple black symbol she was due to have tattooed onto her upper arm. She hoped that, once the symbol of protection was in place, she might be able to sleep easier, maybe not feel so much like she had to shower four or five times a day in an attempt to cleanse herself of the feelings of having been invaded, of having had something trespassing inside her mind. Jodie shivered in disgust, thinking again about how she had been used without even realising, of how many people had died simply because their names were contained within her memory, and how easily that information had been accessed. She kept telling herself she should have realised, known sooner some how that she was being used as a resource, that if she _had_ recognised it, maybe there would have been fewer victims? She swallowed down half the whisky in her glass as the tears began to run down her face again, and she tried to tell herself _Tomorrow. Tomorrow things will be better. The tattoo will make the load feel lighter. I just need to hang on...Until tomorrow..._

-o-

The sound of her ring tone sliced through the silence, drilling into her brain. Heart sinking further, she stared at her cell lying on the coffee table, her tears distorting the thing like she was looking at it underwater. Sorely tempted to ignore the thing, she reluctantly picked it up, praying it was something that could hold till she got into work the next morning. Clearing her throat, she answered.

"Yeah? ... Oh, hi. ... Home already? That's great ... Yeah, I guess I can be free. What do you need? ... What? ... Of _course_ I own a dress, why do you...? _Yes_ it's a nice one, thankyouverymu ... Oh... _Oh!_ ... Seven pm? Sure ... Yes. I...I'd really like that ... Ok then. Great. I'll see you tomorrow."

Ending the call, Jodie stared at the phone, a small smile creeping onto her lips and a slight flush warming her cheeks. It was _exactly_ the boost she needed right now. Leaving the whisky, she headed to her wardrobe, rescuing her dress from the back and inspecting it critically. _Maybe, once the tattoo is done, I should go look for a new one_? Her smile grew. _Possibly something with a bit more "wow" factor_? She grinned to herself. _Maybe, after their date, Bobby would come in for coffee_?

 **FIN  
** _For my SPN_ _sister,_ _ **ncsupnatfan**_ _, who I'm actually getting to meet in May this year!  
_ Thank you to everyone who took time from their lives to read Love Hurts, **very special** thank yous to the lovely people  
who so kindly reviewed or did me the **huge** honour of "favouriting" this fic. That's **incredible** of you! Hugs, **Chick**. Xxxxxx  
 **VOTE  
** _I have a fic already started that's been quietly waiting it's turn._ _ **Anyone have a preference? Sam hurt or Dean hurt?- PM me, majority vote wins**_ _._


End file.
